Summer of Opportunities
by Inusitatus
Summary: Following the events at the Department of Mysteries, Harry decides to take greater control of his life. A new relationship with his family, new friends and new opportunities beckon. As do new adventures . . .
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1, in which new friends are made and prophecies are discussed**

_Friday 14 June 1996_

At Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry a young man wandered listlessly down an ill-lit corridor. After the events of the last year, and the last few days in particular, Harry Potter was pleased that the term was finally coming to an end, although less pleased that this meant he would be going "home" to his relatives for the summer. The last time he had seen the Dursleys was the previous August, and they had not been speaking to him at the time following the dementor attack on Harry and his cousin Dudley. He doubted whether nine months' absence would have made any of their hearts grow fonder at the thought of his return.

Harry knew that this summer he wouldn't even be able to hold the threat of his godfather over them. At the thought of Sirius, Harry came to a stop and took several deep breaths. A week had passed since he had watched Sirius fall through the veil in the Department of Mysteries, and he had finally accepted that Sirius was really gone. Luna's comments before the leaving feast earlier in the evening had been oddly reassuring, but every time he thought of his godfather Harry's chest tightened and he found himself on the verge of tears. He was well aware that he hadn't known Sirius as well as he would have liked, and he would now never have the chance.

He also couldn't help thinking about Remus Lupin, who had now lost his last school friend for a second time, and he resolved to do his best to build a friendship with him if possible. Remus was the last link to Harry's parents, had been one of their best friends, and Harry was ashamed that he had not made more of an effort over the past two years to keep in contact with him. He knew that Remus was a reserved man, burdened by his lycanthropy, and Harry was determined to break through this and let Remus know that he would like to get to know him better. Assuming that Remus wanted to talk to him and didn't blame him for Sirius's death.

Feeling calmer Harry continued down the corridor, heading back towards Gryffindor Tower, when he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. A classroom door opened and as he began to turn he was hit by a _petrificus totalus _jinx and quickly levitated into the room. The door closed behind him and he heard a soft "_colloportus_" followed by a squelching sound, telling him that the door had been magically locked.

Desperately trying to break free of the petrifying jinx, as he was gently leaned against a wall Harry was surprised at the identity of his attackers. The green and silver-trimmed Slytherin robes weren't a surprise, as he had immediately suspected a sneak attack by Draco Malfoy, but their wearers were. Harry recognised Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis, two Slytherins from his year with whom he couldn't recall ever speaking. Nor were they among the small crowd of sycophantic followers that could usually be found hanging on Malfoy's every word and who had formed the majority of Dolores Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad.

"Sorry about this, Potter" said Daphne. "We wanted to speak to you alone and this seemed the easiest way to do it without drawing attention to ourselves. We don't mean you any harm. Tracey is going to release you, and we hope you'll hear us out."

A quick "_finite incantatum"_ and Harry was able to move again. He straightened up, glaring at the two girls. "There was no need to petrify me," he snapped irritably, although he was more annoyed with himself than with the two girls. They had petrified him before he'd even drawn his wand and he was uncomfortably aware that he couldn't afford to let his guard down like that.

"So," continued Harry, "what was so important that . . ."

He never completed the sentence. The classroom door slammed open and a figure dived through. A cry of "_stupefy_", a flash of red light and Daphne slumped to the floor, stunned. Both Harry and Tracey took cover behind the teacher's desk at the front of the room, while the intruder had tipped over a desk at the back of the classroom and was sheltering behind that.

"On three, you go left, I'll go right" whispered Harry. "He won't have time to get both of us and keep a shield up, and at least one of us can get him with a stunner."

Tracey looked rather shaken but nodded, and on Harry's hissed "three" the two students jumped up and ran towards their still unidentified assailant. A stunner missed Tracey as she moved forward, but both her and Harry's stunners hit their target as they rounded the makeshift barricade and the figure, in students' robes, collapsed.

Harry rolled him over, and was startled to recognise Justin Finch-Fletchley, another of his year-mates and a member of the Defence Association. He refused to even think the name 'Dumbledore's Army', not having spoken to the Headmaster in the week since he had been told the prophecy and destroyed the aged wizard's office.

A quick "_enervate_" and Justin sat up with a groan, rubbing his head. Harry heard another "_enervate_" behind him and turned to see Tracey helping Daphne to her feet.

"Right," said Harry, "what the hell is going on here? Justin, why did you attack us?"

"I wasn't attacking you, Harry" protested Justin. "I turned the corner at the top of the Charms corridor and saw you being hit with a petrifying jinx and levitated in here. I assumed you were in trouble and came to help. If I'd realised it was just two witches dragging you into an empty classroom to have their wicked way with you I'd have left well enough alone" continued Justin with a smirk. "Sorry Daphne, Tracey" he apologised as he turned to the two Slytherins.

"What?" exclaimed Harry, blushing heavily as he was hit by the import of the grinning Hufflepuff's words. "No, that's not why they . . ." he began, but trailed off and looked at the girls suspiciously. "Is that why you brought me in here?"

"No," Daphne almost shouted, looking as flustered as Harry could ever recall seeing her. "We just wanted to talk to you without drawing attention to ourselves."

"So if I hadn't burst in, Harry wouldn't have woken from the petrifaction naked, covered in chocolate sauce, and seen you two dressed only in skimpy lingerie getting ready to lick him clean?" asked Justin, raising an eyebrow in apparent disbelief.

Harry stared speechlessly at Justin, before turning back to the girls. Tracey seemed to be taking the conversation in her stride, and as she saw Harry turn to her she slowly licked her lips. Harry was now bright red, although there was also a competing demand for blood from a different part of his body as he involuntarily imagined the scene described by Justin.

Daphne, though, was as red as Harry knew himself to be. She seemed to have forgotten that Harry had, in fact, been unpetrified before Justin burst in, and began to stammer out a denial. "We wouldn't do that, well Tracey wouldn't," she rambled "and I don't like chocolate, I prefer raspberry syrup. And I'm not wearing . . ." she came to an abrupt halt as her brain caught up with what she'd said. "Oh God, kill me now" she said tremulously and turned away from the now open-mouthed Harry.

Tracey sighed, and gently turned Daphne back to face Harry and Justin.

"I'm sorry Daphne" said Justin contritely. "I was only joking, I didn't mean to embarrass you quite like that."

Daphne visibly composed herself and glared at the two youths, but apparently didn't trust herself to speak.

"Close your mouth, Potter" said Tracey, still smiling slightly. "Let's get back to where we were before we were so rudely interrupted".

Justin opened his mouth, but closed it quickly when Daphne pointed her wand at him.

"Right," said Tracey, "as we were about to explain, we'd like to speak to you about You-Know-Who".

"Call him 'Voldemort'" said Harry, rolling his eyes at the shivers that ran through the two girls," or if you can't manage that then call him by his real name, 'Tom Riddle'."

"Tom Riddle?" questioned Daphne.

"You don't really think his parents named him 'Voldemort' do you?" said Harry. "I know that most of the wizarding world seems to have a blind spot when it comes to naming children, but come on! And would 'Voldemort' be a first name or a surname? Did you think his real name might be Voldemort Smith, or John Voldemort?"

"I've never really thought about it" said Tracey sheepishly. "But 'Riddle' isn't a name I recognise. Is he not British?"

"You don't recognise it because it's not a pureblood name" said Harry with a shrug. "He's not a pureblood. His father was a muggle." He drew his wand and wrote 'Tom Marvolo Riddle' in the air, as the shade of a 16-year-old Voldemort had done in the Chamber of Secrets, and rearranged the letters to form the words 'I am Lord Voldemort'.

Daphne eyed the anagram thoughtfully. "So his mother was a witch?" she asked Harry.

"So he told me" Harry replied.

"You've had friendly chats with You-Know . . .er, Riddle, about his parents?" asked Tracey incredulously.

"A younger version" admitted Harry, "and he thought he was about to kill me at the time". Receiving three confused looks he sighed and said "I'll explain another time, if you're interested. Or show you in a pensieve if I can get hold of one."

"I'm interested" said Daphne. "I'd like to know who he really is. If he's not really a British pureblood I can't see why so many of the rest of them follow him."

"He said that the 'Marvolo' in his name came from his grandfather" said Harry. "Is there a pureblood family called 'Marvolo'?"

"I don't think so," said Daphne, "but unless they've been important recently or got kids our age I probably wouldn't know. My mum's really into wizarding genealogy, though. I'll ask her, if you like."

Harry crossed his arms and looked at Daphne and Tracey speculatively. "Not being funny or anything" he said, "but I'm finding this conversation a little surreal. As far as I can remember I've never spoken to either of you in the past five years. Now, in the week after Voldemort is finally acknowledged to be back I'm approached by two members of his old House, housemates of people who claim to be followers of his, who are acting very friendly and are offering me help in tracing his family tree. You'll forgive me if I'm a little suspicious of your motives here."

"Fair point," acknowledged Tracey. "If you'll stop interrupting and let us explain, though, I hope that we can at least give you something to think about, even if you're not actually prepared to trust us on anything." She pulled out a chair and sat down. "Sit down, and we'll tell you why we dragged you in here."

Harry and Daphne pulled out chairs of their own and settled down. Justin looked at the three seated students. "Do you want me to leave?" he asked tentatively.

"You'll only badger us about it incessantly if you do," sighed Tracey, "so you might as well stay." She looked at Harry and explained "We've had to put up with him annoying us for three years in Ancient Runes. He's like an over-exuberant puppy, really."

Justin grinned. "I've gradually worn them down with my good looks and charm. They hardly bother to even hex me any more."

"That can change very quickly" muttered Daphne darkly, apparently still annoyed by Justin's earlier 'seduction of Harry' scenario.

"OK" said Tracey. "Harry, what do you know about the politics in Slytherin at the moment."

Harry looked at her blankly. "What politics?"

Tracey and Daphne sighed in unison. "We thought as much" said Tracey. "Slytherin tends to attract ambitious types, and so Slytherins spend much of their school years making alliances and agreements that will serve them well in the future. The other three houses, in the main, distrust all Slytherins on principle so we keep ourselves to ourselves. Inevitably there will be one or two Slytherins at any one time who are powerful enough, or influential enough, that the rest of the house follows them, or at least doesn't actively oppose them."

"When Juno Culpepper left at the end of our second year" Daphne continued, "she left a vacuum behind. No-one really filled it during our third year, but in our fourth year Draco Malfoy started to push himself forward as the main power in Slytherin. Normally he wouldn't have got very far, since magically he isn't particularly powerful and he has all the cunning of a dead slug. But his father was practically running the Ministry, had Cornelius Fudge in his pocket, and he is extremely wealthy. Since no-one else wanted to go up against Lucius Malfoy, Draco took control by default."

"That's not to say he had it all his own way" interrupted Tracey. "Whatever the other houses might think, all Slytherins are not evil Dark Lords-in-waiting. But we are pragmatic and so we paid lip-service to Draco's anti-Potter, pro-kill all the non- purebloods agenda while generally ignoring him. Even this year, when the rumours of Riddle's return became harder to ignore and Umbridge put him in charge of her Inquisitorial Squad, there were very few who wanted to support him."

"After all", Daphne picked up again, "Slytherins are ambitious. There's no ambition in wanting to become the marked slave of a psychopath who tortures people for fun. When he first rose in the 70s, Riddle concentrated his recruiting efforts on Slytherins. More of them refused to join him than became Death Eaters. And he killed them for their refusals. Most of us in Slytherin are missing family members that he killed last time around."

"Slytherins are also usually pretty intelligent" said Tracey. "We might be proud to be purebloods, but we also recognise the danger of in-breeding and aren't wedded to the idea that we can only marry other purebloods. Without muggleborns bringing new blood into the wizarding world we won't last very long. And although we also believe in tradition, it's becoming more and more obvious that the muggles are leaving us behind in terms of technology and innovation. If the wizarding world as a whole doesn't start to embrace change, we'll be left behind as irrelevant. There's no way that Riddle can "kill all the muggles", and if he tries they'll find out about us and kill us instead."

"So most Slytherins, including us, would be quite happy to see Riddle defeated again" concluded Daphne. "We just wanted to let you know that you have a lot of general support in Slytherin. Draco, now that Lucius has been arrested as a Death Eater, has almost no support. As Tracey said, he's not magically powerful and is a thoroughly unpleasant, nasty piece of work. He's still got money, but so have a lot of us, and without the threat of Lucius in the background his only supporters are those who genuinely follow, or want to follow, Riddle."

Harry sat quietly for a few moments, trying to absorb everything that the girls had told him. It all rang true, and he had to admit that apart from Malfoy and his followers the only trouble he'd had from Slytherins over the years had been Quidditch related and probably had nothing to do with Voldemort. He doubted that Voldemort was a secret Quidditch fanatic, desperate to see his old house win the Quidditch Cup at any cost.

"This is all very interesting" he said honestly," but why tell me this? If you as a house, or your families, want to go against Voldemort you don't need me to do it. Dumbledore," he continued distastefully at the mention of the Headmaster's name, "would be pleased to get more support, especially from people traditionally seen as 'dark'."

"That's the problem," said Tracey. "He would, but only on his terms. Most Slytherins, and their families, don't trust Dumbledore. He's done some very strange things over the years, and made some very strange decisions. And he's never been willing to explain any of them."

"My dad went to him in the 1970s and offered him help after Riddle murdered my uncle" said Daphne. "He was invited to some meetings of Dumbledore's anti-Riddle group, but never joined. He told me that everyone had to do what they were told by Dumbledore, no questions asked. There were no discussions of tactics, or of the information gathered by the group. Everything was decided by Dumbledore on his own. He first thought that this was because he hadn't actually joined up, but he asked around and even those who'd been members for years said that it was always like that. Dumbledore was in charge, and that was it. He never went back."

This sounded eerily familiar to Harry. Dumbledore had never answered any of his own questions until recent events had forced him to disclose the contents of the prophecy. And it wasn't just because of his age; none of the other members of the Order knew about either, as far as he was aware. Dumbledore had never told him, or anyone else, why he trusted Snape, or why he let the potions professor get away with his biased behaviour towards Slytherin and his blatantly unfair treatment of the other houses.

Harry also didn't consider Dumbledore to be as omniscient or all-powerful as the Order did. He hadn't known about the Marauders' animagus forms, he hadn't known that Peter Pettigrew had spent seven years at Hogwarts as a rat, or that Voldemort had been possessing Quirrell for a year. He hadn't been able to find the Chamber of Secrets, or realised that the monster of Slytherin was a basilisk. He hadn't been able to keep dementors out of the school. He hadn't been able to keep Harry's name out of the Goblet of Fire, or realised that one of his oldest friends was actually a polyjuiced imposter. He hadn't been able to keep Umbridge from torturing students. And by ignoring Harry for a year and not telling him about the prophecy he had directly contributed to the death of Sirius.

Harry nodded. "You're right", he agreed. "Dumbledore isn't infallible. Far from it. He's made some very poor decisions where I'm concerned. And he doesn't listen to any views that disagree with his own. If he thinks he's right, that's the end of it, no arguments."

"Exactly" said Tracey. "To be blunt, no-one with any intelligence should follow someone without question. If you don't understand why a decision has been made, or why a course of action has been decided upon, how do you know it's right? I accept that some things have to be taken on trust, but it still shouldn't come down to one person. You should at least be sure that something's been discussed and agreed by other people, even if you're not one of them, so you can make your decision based on your assessment of the competence of those people. Blind trust is dangerous, especially when you know that the person you're trusting has made mistakes in the past."

"That still doesn't explain why you're telling me this", said Harry. "I'm not Dumbledore. I'm a fifteen year old schoolboy."

"At the moment," said Daphne. "You won't always be. We're thinking long-term. For the next couple of years you'll be the most influential student in Hogwarts. After you leave, presumably with good exam results since you spend so much time with Hermione Granger, you'll be one of the wealthiest and most powerful wizards of our generation. Like it or not, and we know you don't like the attention you get as "the boy who lived", you will have a great deal of influence over the next hundred and fifty years. Moreso if the Prophet has actually got it right for once and you really are "The Chosen One" she concluded with a laugh.

Harry felt the blood rush from his face. "Chosen One" he whispered. "How did they . . . I mean, what have they said about me?"

The other three, who had joined in Daphne's laughter, had quietened at Harry's reaction. "Bloody Hell," said Justin. "You mean the Prophet is right?"

Harry steeled himself. "What have they said about me?" he repeated.

"Well, not much actually," said Daphne nervously. "Today's issue says that you, Granger, two Weasleys, Longbottom and Luna Lovegood duelled Death Eaters in the Hall of Prophecies in the Department of Mysteries. It speculates that You-Know-Who was after a prophecy and that this prophecy says that you are the person destined to kill him. But the Ministry denies that there is a Hall of Prophecies, or that there's a prophecy about you and You-Know . . . Riddle, or that the people you duelled are Death Eaters. If they could get away with it they'd probably deny that any of you were there, including Riddle, and deny the existence of the Ministry of Magic for good measure" she finished angrily.

Harry took several deep breaths. "But it's just speculation, right?" he asked. "They don't have any evidence?"

"No they don't," confirmed Tracey. "You might want to work on your reaction to being asked about it, though. You've as good as told us that the Prophet's right."

"But we won't tell anyone," Daphne assured him. "Will we?" she snapped at Tracey and Justin.

"Your secret's safe with me" said Justin.

"And me," echoed Tracey.

"Who else knows?" asked Daphne. "And are you planning to tell anyone else? Are there any reasons to keep it secret, bearing in mind the Prophet's read by most of the wizarding population of the UK, the majority of whom will believe it simply because it's in the paper."

Harry was thinking furiously. As Tracey had said, his reaction had confirmed the truth, at least to the limited extent of Harry being "the Chosen One". Thankfully the details of the prophecy seemed still to be unknown. But Voldemort thought the prophecy had been destroyed, and didn't know that Harry had heard it. He would treat the Prophet's speculation as just that; speculation. If Harry announced that he was indeed the Chosen One, though, Voldemort would realise that Harry knew the prophecy. This in itself wasn't a problem – Voldemort wanted to kill him whether he knew the prophecy or not. And the very fact that Voldemort didn't know the prophecy might actually make him cautious in his future dealings with Harry. He might not want to risk another attempt to kill Harry in case this was precisely the chain of events prophecised which would lead to his defeat. But if Voldemort thought that Harry's friends knew the prophecy they had no such protection.

"There are good reasons to keep it secret" Harry finally admitted. He explained his reasoning and Tracey nodded thoughtfully.

"You're right" she agreed. "As long as Riddle thinks you don't know it, you and your friends are in no more danger than you were before."

"Can you really believe it, though?" asked Justin doubtfully. "I've sat through the same divination lessons you have over the past three years, and the whole subject seems very . . . dubious" he concluded.

"Trelawney's a fraud" stated Daphne. "But that doesn't mean that all divination is worthless. If there really is a Hall of Prophecies in the Department of Mysteries, a lot of people must think that prophecies, at least, can be genuine."

"There is a Hall of Prophecies" confirmed Harry, not wanting to discuss Trelawney's role in all of this. "Or rather, there was. We smashed thousands of them trying to get away from the Death Eaters."

"Smashed?" asked Justin in confusion. "How can you smash a prophecy?"

"Each prophecy is recorded in a glass ball" explained Harry. "Apparently only the people who the prophecies relate to can remove the balls from the shelves. But we tipped a lot of the shelves over and thousands of them smashed."

"Right" said Tracey. "So Riddle and his Death Eaters know there was a prophecy about you and him. But they don't know what it said, and they know that it was smashed. Any they don't know that you know what it says."

"That's right" replied Harry.

"So who else knows that this prophecy exists, and who knows what it actually says?" asked Tracey.

"I'm not sure" admitted Harry. "The Headmaster knew it existed, and he had some of his . . . friends . . . on guard duty in the Ministry to try and protect it. But I don't know if they knew exactly what they were guarding. Dumbledore is very good at not telling people things that he doesn't think they need to know" he finished bitterly.

"Even if they didn't know, or suspect, before, they probably do now, especially if you actually wrecked the Hall of Prophecies" said Daphne.

"The Death Eaters were shouting about it" agreed Harry. "Dumbledore's people must be aware of it."

"What about Ron, Hermione and the others who were with you?" asked Justin.

"They all know that there was a prophecy" said Harry, "but they know it was smashed and don't know that I know what is says. As far as I know, only Dumbledore and I know the contents."

There was silence as the teens considered the import of Harry's revelations.

"I notice that you haven't asked me what the prophecy says" said Harry, turning to Daphne and Tracey.

Tracey shrugged. "Like you said, we've never spoken before today. Us trying to be friendly could easily be a plan of Riddle's to find out the prophecy if he thinks you know it. Pressing you to tell us would look very suspicious. You don't trust us and so aren't likely to tell us anyway. So there isn't really any point in asking."

"Of course, our telling you this and deliberately not asking for details could be part of the plan" said Daphne. "We could be playing a long game, worming our way into your confidence, ready to pounce later."

Harry thought through the girls' statements. They were either being totally honest with him or, as Daphne had suggested, were putting a long-term plan into effect. Only time would tell which was the correct analysis. He could either accept their overtures of friendship and see what happened, or refuse to have anything to do with them. The latter was certainly the safest option. But Harry didn't want to go through life like Alastor Moody, trusting no-one and paranoid to the extreme. He was aware that he had few real friends and decided that this was as good a time as any to begin to change that.

"You can't have too many friends" Harry told the girls. "If this is some kind of long-term nefarious plan, well, we'll see what happens."

"If it's Daphne's long-term nefarious plan" interjected Justin helpfully, "it will probably involve loss of clothing and, from what she said earlier, raspberry syrup."

"That's It!" screamed Daphne, whipping out her wand. "_Aranea_". Streams of fine silken rope shot towards Justin, swiftly enveloping him in a tight cocoon. Immobilised, he toppled backwards to the floor.

Tracey walked over and looked down at Justin. "Spiderweb hex" she said approvingly. "Nice one."

Daphne was breathing deeply. She looked at Harry and said: "As you've probably realised, I have something of a crush on you, and Justin finds that rather amusing. I'm sorry."

Harry had suspected from her earlier comments and reactions that Daphne had a crush on him. Over the years, from Ginny Weasley onwards, he had come to recognise the signs, although he still found it difficult to believe that girls might fancy him, rather than the Boy Who Lived.

Thinking of his disastrous 'date' with Cho Chang, Harry's first instinct was to tell Daphne that he wasn't interested. After all, he hardly knew her and was still slightly suspicious of her and Tracey's motives. He also suspected that anyone he dated would be putting themselves in Voldemort's firing line. But thinking about it further, Daphne had already announced her willingness to stand against Voldemort. She seemed pleasant and sincere and was certainly good looking, he admitted to himself; tall and slim with straight blonde hair, clear blue eyes and a nice smile. The thought of Sirius's reaction made up his mind. He suspected that any advice from that quarter on Harry's future would have involved dating pretty girls. But he didn't want to go out with a girl who was crushing on someone he wasn't.

"Do you have a crush on me, or on the Boy Who Lived?" asked Harry.

Daphne looked pensive. "It can be difficult to separate the two of you" she admitted. "Most children in our world grew up hearing about the Boy Who Lived's defeat of Riddle. But you're the one we go to school with, the one who stands up for what he believes in, the one we know, albeit not very well. You're the good looking quidditch player," she finished with another blush.

"Well," said Harry, making his decision, "you can get to know me better by going out with me if you like. On a date. If you want to, that is" he finished nervously. He was fairly sure that she would say 'yes', but he still waited anxiously for her reply, wondering if his flash of courage had been misplaced.

Daphne stared at Harry in shock. "You're asking me out?" she stammered. "Really?"

"Yes, really" confirmed Harry. "I mean, I live in the muggle world over the summer, but if you want to meet up and do something we can arrange something, can't we?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes" beamed Daphne. "Owl me and we'll set something up. Can you use owls over the summer?"

"I can," Harry replied.

During their conversation Justin had managed to free himself and now stood up, ostentatiously brushing the remains of the spider silk from his robes. He glanced at his watch and cursed.

"It's nearly curfew" he announced. "Come on, we don't want to get detentions for next year already."

The four teens left the classroom and paused at the top of the corridor.

"Good night Harry" said Daphne, shyly.

"Good night Daphne" he replied, still inwardly marvelling at the turn his evening had taken.

"Come on" ordered Tracey, pulling Daphne towards the dungeons. "Night you two."

Justin shook his head indulgently. "Ah, young love" he sighed.

"Prat" said Harry, without rancour.

"Before you go, I wanted to have a quick word with you" said Justin. "Have you had a letter from the Dee Academy about summer school?"

"The Dee Acadamy? Never heard of it" replied Harry. "What do they teach at summer school?"

"Quite a lot" said Justin thoughtfully. "I've got the brochure they sent in my dorm. I'll come and find you on the train tomorrow and show you. It just seemed that signing up to some lessons so I could practice magic over the summer would be a good idea and I wondered if anyone else from Hogwarts had got a brochure and was thinking about it. No-one I've spoken to in Hufflepuff so far has had one."

"Being able to practice over the summer would definitely be a good idea" agreed Harry. "I'll see if anyone in Gryffindor's got one but yes, come and see me tomorrow. I wouldn't mind signing up for something like that, and it's be good to have a friend or two doing the same thing."

"Right. We'll sort something out tomorrow" said Justing happily, moving off towards the Hufflepuff dorms. "Night Harry."

OoOoOoO

It was with a much lighter heart that Harry returned to Gryffindor Tower. He had never given much credence to the expression "a problem shared is a problem halved", but simply knowing that others knew about the existence of the prophecy, if not the details, made his situation seem much less oppressive. The fact that he had managed to ask out an attractive witch didn't hurt, either.

Harry felt slightly guilty, though, that he had told others about the prophecy before Ron and Hermione. They had gone with him to the Department of Mysteries, put their lives on the line for him and deserved to know what the whole mess had really been about. The same went for Ginny, Neville and Luna. The problem was, he couldn't decide what to tell them. Everything, including the wording of the full prophecy? Just the part of the prophecy that Voldemort already knew? Or simply an overview along the lines of what Daphne, Tracey and Justin now knew?

Harry stepped though the portrait hole still thinking over the problem. It was now quite late and the common room was virtually empty. Only two people remained, conversing in low tones on a large couch in front of the fire. Harry wasn't surprised to see Hermione still up. He had taken to wandering the castle late at night since the return from the Department of Mysteries and Hermione had taken to waiting up for his return, obviously concerned about his state of mind following Sirius's death, although she had not pressed him to talk about it despite her obvious frustration. Tonight she had been joined by Neville in her vigil.

"Evening you two" said Harry quietly, joining them on the couch.

Hermione looked startled. On previous evenings Harry had simply nodded a greeting and gone straight upstairs to his dorm. "Hello Harry" she said tentatively. She appeared to fight an internal battle before asking even more tentatively "How are you?"

Harry felt ashamed that Hermione was clearly afraid of his reaction to what was genuine concern on her part. He knew that he had been short-tempered and irritable for much of the previous year and made a second resolution to try and control his temper better in future and to appreciate his friends. This would, he thought wryly, help with his first resolution to make more friends.

"I'm sorry, Hermione" began Harry. "I haven't been a very good friend to you this year. You've always looked out for me, always been concerned about me, and all I seem to have done is get angry with you. I've done a lot of thinking this last week, and I intend to do a lot better in the future."

Hermione stared at him in shock, before abruptly throwing herself at him and enveloping him in a tight hug. "You've nothing to apologise for" she said tearfully into his shirt. "You've been through so much this year, it's not fair, but you've got friends and we just want to help you."

Harry gently disentangled himself and smiled warmly at Hermione. "Well, I just wanted you to know that I appreciate everything you've done for me. You too, Neville" Harry added, turning to his other friend.

"No problem, Harry" replied Neville. "But I won't hug you if you don't mind."

"Prat," sniffled Hermione happily.

"So what have you been up to tonight?" asked Neville.

"Oh, this and that," said Harry nonchalently. "Got into a bit of a fight, found some allies in Slytherin, asked a girl out, you know, the usual."

"If you don't want to tell us all you have to do is say so," huffed Hermione irritably. "There's no need to make things up."

"I wasn't," protested Harry. "I was walking back from the feast when I got petrified and dragged into an empty classroom by Tracey Davis and Daphne Greengrass. They only wanted to talk to me, but Justin Finch-Fletchley saw me being 'abducted' and burst in to save me. Once we cleared that up we talked for a while, I asked Daphne out, she said "yes" and I came back here."

"You asked Daphne Greengrass out and she said 'yes'?" said Neville.

"Of course she did," said Hermione, not sounding at all surprised. "She's fancied him for years." She suddenly smiled. "What did Justin say when he realised it was Daphne who'd abducted you?"

"He may have made a few suggestive comments" admitted Harry, flushing. "But without them I probably wouldn't have realised she fancied me, so it all worked out in the end."

Neville shook his head wonderingly. "When I get hexed by Slytherins I usually end up in the hospital wing. You end up with a date. It's not fair."

"Tell you what Nev," grinned Harry, "we're bound to run into Malfoy tomorrow. If you like, I'll have a word with him and see if he's interested in asking you out."

Neville shuddered theatrically. "Don't even joke about it!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "So who are your allies in Slytherin? Daphne and Tracey?"

"No, from the sounds of it there are quite a few people in Slytherin who can't stand Malfoy and don't want to serve Voldemort. Now they can see he's really back they realise they have to pick a side, since they're prime recruiting material and Voldemort doesn't take 'no' for an answer."

"That's true," said Neville sombrely. "Gran says that one of Daphne's uncles turned him down last time and V..V..Voldemort killed his whole family."

Harry suddenly realised that as a pureblood, Neville was probably related to many of the students in Slytherin. "Do you know many Slytherins?" he asked. "Socially, I mean."

"Quite a few" admitted Neville. "I used to get taken to lots of functions before we started Hogwarts, and most of the kids were related in some way, although very distantly in many cases. Daphne's my second cousin, I think."

Hermione looked thoughtful. "Did you get on with them before Hogwarts?"

Neville shrugged. "We were just kids, playing together. We all got on fine together, mostly. Although I never liked Malfoy much" he confided with a grin. "It's not like I had many close friends before I came to Hogwarts, but if you'd asked me before we started who my best friend was, I'd have said Blaise Zabini. I used to spend a lot of time round at his house; his mum and dad were nice and he had younger brothers and sisters to play with, too. Since we started here I've hardly spoken to him" he finished, sadly.

"The House system isn't working as it should" commented Hermione. "Sometimes it seems as though we're actively discouraged from getting to know people from other houses. Even though we have classes with the other houses, we never sit with the people from those houses or speak to them regularly. And outside class we have separate tables in the Great Hall, and separate common rooms and dormitories."

"It's like Professor McGonagall said on our first day here" remembered Harry. "Something about "your house will be your family while you're at Hogwarts, and you'll do everything with them". That's fine in principle, but we should still have the choice to make friends in other houses and be able to spend time with existing friends who happened to get sorted into a different house."

"That's what was so good about the DA this year" said Neville. We got to know lots of other people from outside our own House."

"Except Slytherin" said Harry. "There's no wonder so many of them turn to Voldemort. They're ambitious by nature and are shunned by three quarters of the school. Of course some of them will take the opportunity to get back at non-Slytherins, even though most of them probably don't know what they're getting themselves into."

"So how did you know that Daphne fancied me, if you don't talk to Slytherins?" Harry asked Hermione curiously.

"Oh, well, we have ancient runes together," she replied, "and Professor Babbling has a rule that two students from the same house can't sit next to each other in her class. Outside the DA, that's the only time I've really managed to talk to people outside Gryffindor. Quite a lot of the students knew each other from before Hogwarts, like Neville said, and over the years we've got to know each other quite well, although there are only a dozen of us in the class. Daphne, Tracey and Blaise are the only Slytherins, and they've always been fine with me."

"Well," said Harry, "I've decided that I'm going to make more friends, so next year I plan on getting to know people from all of the houses better, including Slytherins."

"Me too," said Neville. "I'm going to write to Blaise over the summer and see if I can salvage anything of our friendship."

"Speaking of summer," said Harry, "have either of you heard of a school called the Dee Academy, or its summer school?"

Neville's forehead wrinkled in thought. "I think it's a small, independent school somewhere in Wales " he said, "although I'm not sure where I've heard that."

"It's in North West Wales, in Snowdonia I think" agreed Hermione. "I got an invitation to the school on my eleventh birthday, the same as Hogwarts. The information pack said that they catered mainly to muggle-born students, and taught all the usual academic subjects as well as magic. To be honest, my parents would have preferred me to go there rather than Hogwarts, but once I'd read "Hogwarts: A History" I didn't want to go anywhere else, and persuaded them to send me here. I've never heard of a summer school there, though. Why?"

"Justin said he'd got a brochure from them, advertising a summer school this summer," replied Harry. "He couldn't find anyone else in Hufflepuff who'd got one, and asked me if I'd had one. He's thinking of signing up so that he can practice magic over the summer and thought it would be more fun if he knew some of the other students beforehand."

"When does it start? What subjects are they teaching? Can anyone sign up?" asked Hermione, clearly excited at the opportunity to learn more magic over the summer.

"Calm down, Hermione" said Harry, smiling at her enthusiasm. "Justin's going to find us on the train tomorrow and show us the brochure. But if it looks good I'm going to sign up. There must be something interesting, and if it turns out not to be, well, it's only for a couple of months."

"It'll be worth signing up just so we can see each other, or meet other people, over the summer" agreed Neville. "I like spending time with my Gran, but there's only usually the two of us and it gets a bit boring after two months."

"Right then, we'll see what the brochure says tomorrow" decided Harry.

"So," Hermione said lightly, "did we miss anything else tonight? Any more bombshells to drop on us?"

Harry immediately sobered, the words of the prophecy crashing over him once more. Hermione and Neville must have sensed his change in mood, and their smiles faded and they both looked at him anxiously.

"Have either of you seen the Prophet today?" asked Harry.

Neville glanced at Hermione. "Yes" he said. "We saw that they're calling you the Chosen One. But that'll die down over the summer."

"I hope it will," sighed Harry. "The problem is, the Prophet's right."

"What?" screeched Hermione. "How can it be? The prophecy was smashed, no-one heard what it said . . ." she trailed off. "Dumbledore. APWBD. He was the one it was made to."

Harry quickly cast a silencing spell around the couch, checking that no-one else was in the room.

"Yes, it was made to Dumbledore by Trelawney sometime in early 1980. Dumbledore told it to me after we got back from the Department of Mysteries. It says, well," Harry took a couple of deep breaths. "It says that I have to kill Voldemort, or he has to kill me."

Harry looked up to see his friends looking at him sympathetically. Hermione was the first to speak.

"What exactly does it say, Harry," she said gently. "You know I don't have much faith in divination or Trelawney. From what I've read, prophecies are notoriously difficult to interpret and can often only be understood with the benefit of hindsight."

"Are you sure you want to know?" asked Harry. "Voldemort wants to know what the prophecy says badly, and if he finds out you know it . . ."

A short bark of laughter came from Neville. "Harry, last week the three of us helped to put most of Voldemort's Death Eaters in Azkaban. I doubt that there are many people higher up his list of targets than us already."

"True," said Harry sadly. "Well if you're sure." He concentrated on his conversation with Dumbledore, and repeated the prophecy.

"_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. And the Dark Lord shall mark him as his equal, but he shall have power the Dark Lord knows not. And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, born as the seventh month dies._"

Silence fell on the common room, broken only by the hiss of embers from the dying fire and the scratching of Hermione's quill as she transcribed the prophecy. Harry having confirmed the accuracy of her transcription she sat back and studied her parchment. Neville and Harry settled back into companionable silence, watching Hermione chew the end of her quill as she read and re-read the prophecy.

"If this wording is right," she finally concluded, "it doesn't make sense."

"What do you mean?" said Harry, puzzled. "Dumbledore said that there were only two children born in July 1980 whose parents had defied Voldemort three times; me and Neville."

Neville stared wide-eyed at Harry and opened his mouth, but before he could speak Harry quickly continued. "Voldemort came for me first, and marked me," Harry tapped his scar, "so either I have to kill him, or he has to kill me."

"The prophecy says that "neither can live while the other survives" Hermione pointed out. You're both alive at the moment, so that can't be true, can it?"

Harry looked puzzled. "Dumbledore said . . ." he started, but was interrupted again by Hermione.

"In fact," she said, excitedly, "the prophecy has already been fulfilled. "You had the power to vanquish him, Voldemort marked you as his equal by coming after you (and literally marked you with your scar when he tried to kill you), and you obviously had power he knew not, because when he tried to kill you the curse rebounded and killed him instead. Since you were both alive before then, as well, that "neither can live" part isn't literally true; it must mean that Voldemort couldn't live, in the sense of living his life without worrying about being killed, while he thought that there was someone out there who could kill him. Like Macbeth."

"Who's Macbeth?" mouthed Neville to Harry, receiving a shrug in reply.

"But I didn't kill him!" exclaimed Harry. "He's still alive."

"He is now, but he wasn't then" argued Hermione. "Didn't you say that when he spoke to the Death Eaters after he got his body back he told them that he'd become a ghost? Ghosts aren't alive."

"Well, they are in a sense" protested Harry. "Nearly Headless Nick is sort of alive. He's got a personality, and intelligence, and stuff."

"Yes, and if the prophecy should be taken literally you might have a point. But we know from the "neither can live" part that it shouldn't. The prophecy's already been fulfilled" concluded Hermione triumphantly.

"But Dumbledore said . . ." began Harry, weakly.

"Pfff. Wizards and logic don't go together" said Hermione dismissively. "He can believe what he wants to believe. You've already killed Voldemort and fulfilled this prophecy. That means that you're not the only one who can kill him this time."

"You might be right, Hermione," said Neville, "but if Dumbledore believes Harry's the only one who can kill Voldemort, Voldemort would probably believe it too, if he ever heard the full prophecy. So he'd keep coming after Harry anyway."

Hermione deflated. "You're right," she said sadly. "Whether he knows the prophecy or not, he's still going to keep coming after you."

In contrast to Hermione's deflation, Harry felt his spirits rising as he thought about Hermione's analysis, and couldn't help the wide grin that appeared on his face. He jumped up, pulled Hermione up with him and, enveloping her in a hug, lifted her off the ground and swung her round, before setting her back down gently.

"Hermione, you're a genius" he told her, before leaning forward and kissing her on the forehead.

"What? I mean, well, what?" stammered the flustered girl, raising her hand to touch her forehead in disbelief.

"I've spent the last week thoroughly depressed because I thought the weight of the wizarding world was on my shoulders" said Harry. "I thought that I had to kill Voldemort, and that if I failed the wizarding world would be destroyed. But I don't. Given the opportunity, someone else can kill him. OK, yes, he's still going to be trying to kill me, but the overall responsibility isn't just mine. And that's a massive relief." He dropped back onto the couch, still grinning madly.

"I could be wrong, you know," said Hermione weakly.

"True," said Neville. "But you said earlier that prophecies can only be properly interpreted with hindsight. Chances are, that'll be the case with this one, too." He turned to Harry. "It sounds like Dumbledore convinced you that his was the only possible interpretation. Hermione's shown that it isn't." A rather fierce look came over his face. "And I don't like the fact that he told you all this only hours after you'd watched your Godfather die, when you were unlikely to be thinking straight anyway."

Hermione looked furious. "He told you that same night, when we all got back from the Ministry?"

Harry nodded.

"I don't know what he's been playing at this year" exploded Hermione. "He lets Umbridge into the school, ignores you, doesn't supervise Professor Snape's occlumency lessons, doesn't tell you what Voldemort was after in the Department of Mysteries, and then right after Sirius dies he tells you that you have to kill Voldemort. That's, that's, it's like he doesn't care about anything except defeating Voldemort, and the end justifies the means."

"My Gran isn't a big fan of Dumbledore's" admitted Neville quietly. "She blames him for what happened to my mum and dad. I've never been quite sure why. But after this year and what you've said tonight, I don't think I'll be in a rush to trust him on anything important."

Harry nodded, sadly. "He was responsible for leaving me with relatives who hated me, and never bothered to check up on how I was. I don't think he cares about us as individuals. He just sees the big picture. As long as Voldemort is killed at the end, that's alright."

"He's been seen as the most powerful wizard in Britain for over fifty years" said Hermione sadly. "I suppose that when you get to be as old as he is, and everyone tells you how powerful and wise you are, you start to believe it, especially if there's no-one around who's willing to stand up to you and tell you you're wrong."

"Well, from now on that's our job" said Harry with determination. I'm not accepting anything he says in future without giving it careful consideration. I'm certainly not going to take anything on trust." He paused, thoughtfully. "Tracey and Daphne said something very similar earlier, that Slytherins don't trust Dumbledore. Maybe that's why he's never tried to integrate the houses. If he keeps the Slytherins separate, they can't infect the other houses with their distrust."

Hermione looked dubious. "I'm not sure that can be right." She sighed. "But you're right, we can't afford to assume we know why he does anything anymore."

"So how much of this do Daphne, Tracey and Justin know?" asked Neville curiously. "I assume you didn't tell them the wording of the prophecy."

"No," said Harry, "I wasn't sure how much I could trust them and the timing seemed very convenient. But I hadn't seen the Prophet and when Daphne mentioned about them calling me the Chosen One they guessed from my reaction that I knew what the prophecy said, and that the Prophet was right about me."

"We should get a second opinion from someone, though" said Hermione. "I can understand you not trusting Tracey and Daphne, at least not yet. But what about Professor Lupin?"

Harry's earlier exuberance faded. "I'm not sure he'll want to speak to me" he said sadly.

"Why not?" asked Neville, curiously?

"I got his best friend killed" was Harry's answer.

"No you didn't" snapped Hermione. "Harry, look at me."

Harry looked up, surprised at the anger in her voice.

"You didn't kill Sirius. Bellatrix Lestrange killed Sirius."

"But if I hadn't followed Voldemort's fake vision . . ."

"You didn't know it was fake. Harry, you saved Mr Weasley at Christmas because you had a vision, a true vision. How were you to know that this one wasn't just as true?"

"I could have tried harder to find out" yelled Harry. "I had a communication mirror, Sirius gave it to me at Christmas, but I never opened it. I could have called him on that."

"Did he keep the mirror with him at all times?" asked Hermione.

"I don't know" mumbled Harry.

"No, you don't" she snapped. "Harry, you tried to find out if Sirius was at Headquarters, and you couldn't contact him. You had no reason to think that the vision was false. The logical conclusion was that Voldemort was holding Sirius in the Department of Mysteries. Even though I thought it was a trap for you I still thought, based on what you'd seen, that Sirius was there. It was not. Your. Fault."

Harry closed his eyes and leaned back into the couch. Hermione wasn't telling him anything he didn't already know. He had thought about little else for the last week and even though he wanted to keep blaming himself he knew where the fault really lay.

"I know, Hermione" he said tiredly. "Logically I know that it was Bellatrix Lestrange. It's just that if I'd stayed at Hogwarts, she wouldn't have had the chance."

"Maybe not," said Hermione gently. "If you hadn't gone, though, and the vision had been true, and Voldemort had killed Sirius, would that have been your fault too?"

Harry sighed. "Everything you say is true, Hermione" he said. "But that doesn't stop me feeling guilty."

"It will take time, Harry. Just . . . don't bottle everything up. I really doubt that Professor Lupin is blaming you. But you won't know unless you talk to him. He's lost his best friend. Again. Don't you think that he might like to talk about him with someone else who loved him?"

"I want to talk to him, Hermione. He hasn't got anyone now and I want to try and build a friendship with him. I'm actually ashamed that I haven't tried to get to know him more over the last couple of years."

"Owl him when you get home tomorrow" she suggested. "Ask him to come and see you. This summer's as good a time as any to start to get to know him better."

"I will," decided Harry. "Nothing ventured, nothing gained, eh?"

"Don't miss the chance to get to know someone like that Harry," said Neville seriously. "You never know what's going to happen in the future. If anything does happen, you shouldn't have any regrets. Take the chance while it's there."

Harry smiled at his friends. "Thanks. Both of you. What with Daphne, Tracey and Justin earlier, and now you two, I do actually feel a lot better."

"Are you going to tell anyone else about the prophecy, apart from Professor Lupin?" asked Hermione. "I was thinking about Ron, Ginny and Luna."

Harry looked pensive. "I should, but I'm not sure I'll get a chance before we get on the train, and I don't think the train's the most secure place to talk about it. I'll have to try and meet up with them over the summer. If this summer school does look good, perhaps they'll be interested in signing up too, and we could discuss it there."

Neville looked doubtful. "No offence to Ron," he said, "but I can't honestly see him agreeing to spend the summer studying."

"If a load of us are doing it he might, " said Harry optimistically. "We'll see tomorrow. But now I think about it, Luna said that she and her dad were going to Sweden hunting crumple-horned snorkacks, so she might not want to anyway."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

Harry looked up at one of the common room clocks and saw that it was now well past midnight. He yawned. "Right, I'm off to bed. The summer starts tomorrow, a chance for new opportunities, a chance to make new friends,"

"A chance to snog your new girlfriend," interrupted Neville slyly.

Harry blushed and Hermione laughed. "Night you two," she said, gathering up her parchment with the prophecy transcription and moving towards the stairs." She stopped, thought for a second, and tapped the parchment with her wand. "I've keyed it to my wand signature" she explained to the puzzled boys. "It just means that no-one can read it without my permission."

"Good idea," said Harry, rising himself. "No point taking any chances."

Harry and Neville headed towards the stairs themselves. "Night, Hermione," they chorused as she disappeared upstairs, before heading quickly for their own beds.

As he nestled under the covers Harry mused again on a very peculiar day. Maybe there were grounds for optimism, he thought, as he drifted off to sleep. The whole summer stretched ahead of him, a summer full of opportunities. All he had to do was make the most of them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2, in which educational opportunities are discussed and relatives are reappraised**

_Saturday 15 June 1996_

Harry awoke next morning after a surprisingly restful night's sleep. He showered quickly and headed down to the Great Hall, joining Ron and Hermione at the Gryffindor table. He noticed that he was attracting a fair few stares from all over the Hall, but supposed that this was inevitable following the previous day's Prophet. He nodded at Justin over on the Hufflepuff table and smiled at Daphne and Tracey. Daphne smiled back and Tracey winked at him.

"Who are you smiling at?" asked Ron, craning his neck in the direction Harry was facing.

"Pretty girls, Ron," replied Harry mischievously, ignoring Neville's smirk and turning his mind to breakfast.

"What? Who?" spluttered Ron, sweeping his eyes along the tables. "You were looking at the Slytherins!"

"Slytherins are people too, Ron," said Harry sententiously, while grinning inwardly. "I'm sure I've seen Pansy Parkinson looking longingly at you in our Care of Magical Creatures classes when she thought no-one was looking."

"Yes," Neville chimed in, "remember when we were doing nifflers? She had that one with red fur. She was stroking it and staring dreamily at you all the time. Quite disturbing, really."

Ron looked as though he couldn't decide whether to be revolted or flattered. Unfortunately the result simply made him look vaguely constipated.

Harry caught Hermione fighting back a smile, and was impressed when, with a straight face, she said "I wondered why she was so keen to check the prefects' bathroom rota to find out when the Gryffindor prefects have it. You do lock the door, don't you Ron?"

Ginny, sitting on Hermione's other side, smirked and said "He did, but I bet he won't any more if he thinks he's going to get a visitor!"

Since her name had been mentioned Ron had not taken his eyes off Pansy, and his attention had been pointed out to her. His rapidly changing facial expressions and colour had apparently begun to disturb her, leading to her annoyed call of "What are you looking at, Weasley?"

Ron now had a classic 'rabbit in the headlights' look. "Nothing, honestly," he stammered. If he had stopped there, all would probably have been well. Unfortunately Ron decided that, in light of his housemates' comments, he needed to go further.

"I'm flattered, really," he went on, "but I'm just not interested in you that way. Sorry…" he trailed off.

Pansy appeared to be speechless at the implication that she was carrying a torch for Ron and simply sat, stunned, her mouth opening and closing wordlessly.

All conversation in the Great Hall had now ceased and several hundred students watched the Gryffindor and Slytherin tables, eager for more. Draco Malfoy was only too happy to oblige.

"Really Weasley," he drawled, "I know that your family has deluded itself into thinking it's a fine example to wizardkind, but you appear to be simply delusional."

"What? No, I mean, what about the prefects' bathroom?" said Ron helplessly, looking almost imploringly at Pansy.

Pansy looked horrified. "I don't know what you mean," she squeaked, her face beet-red. "I've never, I mean, I wouldn't, it's always locked . . ." She suddenly realised what she'd said and turned desperately to Malfoy. "I mean, we always lock the door."

Malfoy had himself now turned an unbecoming shade of red. "You and Weasley, in the prefects' bathroom?" he said incredulously. You mean that's why you wouldn't…?" He closed his mouth with an audible click, glaring furiously at Pansy.

"No, I didn't mean that," gasped Pansy desperately, "I mean Weasley always locks the door, I've never been in the prefects' bathroom at the same time as him."

"How do you know he always locks the door?" shouted someone from the Ravenclaw table.

Everyone in the Great Hall was now leaning toward the Slytherin table waiting for Pansy's answer. She looked round wildly and with a whimper bolted from the room.

All eyes now turned to Malfoy. Still blushing furiously he rose and also quickly left the Hall. Crabbe and Goyle lumbered to their feet and followed him out.

It was now Ron's turn to fall under the Hall's scrutiny. He appeared to like the experience as little as Malfoy as, pushing aside his unfinished breakfast, he also fled.

Chatter in the Hall rose to a crescendo as the students eagerly began to discuss this latest piece of gossip. Harry put his arms on the table, laid his head on them and let out the almost hysterical laughter that had been building since Ron's first comment.

As his laughter finally subsided Harry straightened up and wiped his eyes. He saw that Ginny was slumped over her breakfast giggling uncontrollably. Neville wasn't in a much better state. Hermione, though, was simply sitting there, a stunned expression on her face.

"Did you three know that Pansy fancied Ron?" asked Harry. "I was just trying to wind him up a bit and I thought that you were just joining in."

"We were," chuckled Neville, "at least I was. I can't believe she fancies him. But her comment about the bathroom suggests that she's at least tried the door when he's been in there." He shook his head. "Perhaps it came out different to what she meant," he suggested charitably.

"I can't wait to see Fred and George" said Ginny happily. "I was just going along with you two, but I agree with Neville. There's either something there or what she said came out really, really, wrong."

They all turned to Hermione. "She did ask me about the bathroom rota," she said, still looking stunned. "But I thought she'd just lost her copy. I've asked other prefects sometimes when they're going to be in there, too, but it doesn't mean I fancy them. I was just going along with Harry."

Harry shrugged. "Well, at least we've given everyone something to talk about" he said with a smile, watching the eagerly gossiping students beginning to leave the Hall. "Come on, let's get our trunks and head down to the station."

**OoOoO**

In the rush of last-minute packing and the competition for carriages Harry didn't see Ron after breakfast, but ended up in a carriage with Luna Lovegood and two Slytherin first years, who eyed them both nervously. Harry smiled to himself at their reaction, and thought he could see a small smile trying to break out on Luna's face, too. He wondered just how much of her personality was really an act. Act or not it, in combination with Harry's presence was obviously too much, and both first years jumped out of the carriage with muttered excuses about going to find friends, leaving Harry and Luna alone as the thestrals began their trip to Hogsmead.

"When are you and your dad heading off to Sweden?" asked Harry, settling back in his seat. "And how do wizards travel internationally? Are there international versions of the floo or portkeys?"

"There are both," replied Luna, "but Daddy likes to travel muggle style. We're actually going on a sort of cruise through the Baltic and around the Gulf of Bothnia. We live on the boat, but we take excursions out into the countryside. We leave next weekend, and will be gone for three weeks."

"And do you think you'll find snorkacks?" Harry asked. "How do you know you're looking in the right place?"

Luna looked rather embarrassed. "We're not really looking for snorkacks," she admitted quietly.

Harry grinned. "So how many of the creatures you talk about, that Hermione's never heard of, are actually real?" he asked.

Luna smiled back. "Quite a few of them may well be real," she said, before turning serious. "When I first came to Hogwarts I didn't have any friends, and had never really been around anyone my own age. I tried to make friends, but wasn't very good at it, and Daddy's reputation preceded me. Eventually I just stopped trying and found that if I talked about strange creatures and conspiracies people would generally leave me alone. It's proving to be a hard habit to break."

"Well, you have friends now," said Harry firmly. "But don't feel you have to change just to get friends. Real friends will like you for who you are."

Luna's smile returned. "This has been my best year at Hogwarts by far," she said quietly, before leaning forward and giving a surprised Harry a hug. "Thank you."

"Any time" said Harry, absently patting her on the back before she returned to her own seat.

Harry eventually broke the companiable silence that had fallen over the carriage. "Have you ever heard of the Dee Academy?"

Luna thought for a few moments, before replying. "It's a private school in Wales, I think. Why?"

Harry explained about Justin's brochure, and his suggestion that studying magic over the summer might be useful, and studying with friends would be better.

"If you can start part-way through the summer, would you be interested?" Harry asked. "You'll be back by the end of July, so you could study something for four or five weeks, if that's an option."

"I think I'd like that. But even if I can't, we could still meet up before we go back to school, couldn't we?" Luna asked hopefully.

"Of course we can" smiled Harry. "I plan on seeing all my friends this summer as often as possible."

The carriage began to slow, and Harry saw Hogsmead station through the window. "Come on," he said, jumping out and pulling his and Luna's trunks from the luggage platform at the rear of the carriage. "Let's go and find Justin and see what exactly we can study at this mysterious school."

There was no sign of Justin on the gently steaming Hogwarts Express and, coming across a compartment occupied by Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott, Harry and Luna decided to stow their trunks and join the two Hufflepuffs, both of whom were also interested in signing up for summer school.

It wasn't long before Justin arrived, accompanied by Neville and Ernie Macmillan.

"Come on then Justin, lets see this brochure" said Harry, and Justin pulled a glossy A4-sized document out of his trunk.

"Are you sitting comfortably?" he enquired. On receiving a chorus of impatient 'yes's he continued. "Then I'll begin". He cleared his throat and began to read from the brochure.

_Summer School at the Dee Academy_

_The Dee Academy is pleased to announce the introduction of a summer school, open to students of all ages, offering courses in a wide variety of magical subjects._

_Magic is almost infinite in its variety and the Academy's current curriculum barely scratches the surface of a vast field of study. The summer school will therefore concentrate on subjects not typically covered by our students. If students wish to focus on subjects offered as part of the Academy's current curriculum, they may study aspects of a subject not included in the standard syllabus as a separate project._

_The Academy's staff is skilled in many fields of magic, not only those currently taught as part of the standard curriculum, and examples of the subjects in which instruction is offered appear elsewhere in this brochure. Should any students wish to study subjects not on that list, please talk to a member of staff; our aim is to accommodate all students' wishes as far as possible._

_If you are not currently a student of the Academy, we will be holding an open day on Wednesday 19 June 1996 to give you the opportunity of meeting the staff and discussing your requirements. Current students are also welcome to attend the open day._

_Each subject or project will be studied on a modular basis. Direct instruction or supervision of up to 40 hours per module will be provided, as well as access to such study material as is necessary._

_Students may undertake their studies, to their own timetables as much as possible, between Monday 24 June 1996 and Friday 30 August 1996._

_I wish you well in your summer studies,_

_Rosalind Franklin_

_Headmistress_

"There's a picture of the Headmistress here," said Justin, "and lots of other pictures of the school – classrooms, laboratories, greenhouses and the like."

"So what subjects are in the list?" asked Neville. "Is herbology there?"

"You spend too much time in the greenhouses as it is," said Justin. "You should try something new."

"Unless you tell us the options, we don't know what we _can_ try," Harry pointed out.

"Yes, yes, I'm coming to that, but you keep interrupting" Justin complained.

_Subjects for Study_

_This list is not exhaustive, but the subjects on offer include:_

_The Mind Arts – an introduction to Occlumency and Legilimency_

_Enchanting – an introduction to the permanent charming of objects_

_Warding – an introduction to the protection of objects and locations_

_Spellcraft – an introduction to the process of spell research and development_

_Duelling – an introduction to structured magical combat_

_Ritual Magic – an introduction to individual and combined ceremonial magic_

_All of these subjects are vast in scope, and each student may tailor his or her module depending on individual interests._

_Projects outside of the usual syllabus may be undertaken in:_

_Transfiguration_

_Charms_

_Magical Natural History (both flora and fauna)_

_Arithmancy_

_Ancient and Modern Magical Languages_

_Some of these 'core' subjects are, of course, integral to several of the new subjects at the head of the list, although no prior knowledge of any of the 'core' subjects is required simply to take a particular new subject. Modules will be tailored to the individual abilities of the student._

Justin paused again, and the carriage was silent as everyone considered the subjects offered by the brochure. The introspective mood was finally broken by Neville.

"Well, that sounds comprehensive," he commented. "Magical Natural History sounds good, but I wouldn't mind Enchanting. I'm not bad at charms and making them permanent would be pretty cool."

"Spellcraft would be rather good, too" said Ernie. "If you could come up with a spell that there's no counter to, you'd be unbeatable in duels."

"I doubt it's that easy," laughed Susan, "otherwise all wizards would have specialist spells to make them invincible. But you're right, learning how to create spells would be brilliant."

"Do we study any of those subjects at Hogwarts?" asked Harry. "I mean, are they available as NEWTs, or are the NEWTs in the same subjects as we took OWLs in?"

"Enchanting will be covered in NEWT level Charms," said Luna. "And duelling will probably be similar to what Harry's taught us this year in the DA, just more focused on formal bouts, with similar spells to those we learn in Defence against the Dark Arts. Warding and Spellcraft will probably be covered in Ancient Runes and Arithmancy, but maybe not in the same depth. Hogwarts doesn't teach Mind Arts or Ritual Magic."

Harry had been initially attracted by the Duelling option, but also thought that Warding and Spellcraft sounded interesting. On hearing that these involved ancient runes and arithmancy, though, he sighed and, not for the first time, rued his decision to take Divination and not the others. He looked up to see Luna watching him, a thoughtful expression on her face.

"The brochure says you don't have to have prior knowledge of any subject to take a module in it" she said perceptively. "If you took Warding and Spellcraft it would give you an introduction to ancient runes and arithmancy and if you like them you can continue them at Hogwarts next year."

"But I've missed three years' worth of lessons" said Harry. "I'll never catch up."

"You don't have to," replied Luna. "You could study them for two years and take your OWLs and then carry on with them independently after you've left."

"Keep studying after we leave Hogwarts?" said Hannah, doubtfully. "We'll have jobs, though, and other things to do."

Luna laughed. "We'll be 18 when we leave Hogwarts. Dark Lords aside, we can expect to live at least another hundred years after that. The Headmaster is 150 and there are wizards and witches older than him. If we want to keep learning, we can, we've got plenty of time."

Harry's spirits rose again on Luna's comments as he realised she was right. He'd never really given much thought to what he'd do after Hogwarts except for the vague idea of being an auror. That particular career path was looking less attractive to him, though, and he wasn't sure that he'd ever want to work for the Ministry of Magic.

"That would be good," he told Luna. "I've no idea what I want to do for the rest of my life, so the more I study now the more options I'll have. If each module is 40 hours, that's four or five hours a week, plus homework. If I'm going to study a module I want to do it properly, so I don't want to overload myself. I reckon three modules would be plenty."

"So which ones, then?" asked Neville. "Duelling?"

Harry thought carefully. Defence against the Dark Arts was certainly his best subject. But if the duels involved were formal ones he doubted he'd learn much that wouldn't be covered at Hogwarts over the next two years. He thought it unlikely that there would be a module on 'Fighting Death Eaters' or 'Defeating Dark Lords'. No, the subjects that had really piqued his interest were Warding and Spellcraft. In addition he was still feeling guilty over his failure to learn occlumency. He admitted to himself that he hadn't perhaps tried as hard as he could, but he laid most of the blame at Snape's feet. Studying occlumency over the summer would show once and for all whether he was capable of learning the subject, assuming that the teacher was competent.

"Warding, Spellcraft and Mind Arts" he finally told Neville. "Although I'd like to go to the open day next week to get some more details."

A chorus of agreement came from around the carriage.

"How do we get there, Justin?" Susan asked. "And is there an application form or anything in the brochure?"

Justin flipped to the back page and began to read again.

_How to Enrol_

_If you wish to enrol in the Academy's summer school, please complete the form below and return it to the Academy by Wednesday 19 June, along with the course fee. If you wish to attend the open day on 19 June, portkeys may be obtained from the Academy's Secretary._

"So we just need to write to the Secretary and get portkeys?" queried Ernie. "What's the address?"

There was a rush for parchment and quills and Justin read out the owl address for the Academy.

"What was that about course fees?" asked Hannah.

Justin flipped back through the brochure.

_Course Fees_

_Fees may be paid in either galleons or sterling. The fee for each module is 50 galleons or £250._

"I'm not sure I'll be able to persuade my mum and dad to pay that," said Hannah sadly. "Only my dad works, and my brother starts at Hogwarts in September. They might not be able to afford it. Even if they can, it would probably only be one module."

"How much does Hogwarts cost?" asked Harry. "Do we pay fees to go there?"

"Hogwarts is funded by the Ministry" said Susan, "but only to the extent of paying the teachers' salaries, food for the staff and students and basic equipment, like potions ingredients, telescopes for astronomy, and the like. It doesn't provide textbooks, uniforms or any extras."

Harry thought about the contents of his Gringotts vault. He hadn't been to Gringotts for three years, but the withdrawals made on his behalf since then hadn't been particularly large. When he'd visited his vault before third year, when he'd been staying at the Leaky Cauldron, he'd estimated its contents at around 50,000 galleons and withdrawals since probably amounted to less than a thousand.

"Money's not a problem" Harry told Hannah. "I've got more than enough in my vault for the next few years. If your parents can't afford it, I'll lend you the money for course fees for whatever modules you want to take."

Harry looked around the carriage. "Same goes for the rest of you. If you want to borrow the course fees you can, and you can pay me back once you've left school and got jobs and got money coming in."

Hannah looked stunned. "You'd lend me fifty or a hundred galleons, just like that?"

Harry shrugged. "Of course, you're my friend. The money's not doing a lot of good just sitting in my vault, might as well put it to good use."

The next thing Harry knew, Hannah was on his lap giving him a hug that rivalled any that he'd received from Molly Weasley. As he hugged back, Harry realised that he'd received more hugs in the last 24 hours than in the whole of the previous year. And he had to admit that there was something to be said for having an armful of witch.

Hannah finally withdrew, blushing, and returned to her seat.

"Sorry Hannah," said Justin. "He's taken."

Several pairs of eyes flickered between Justin and Harry, and Harry was amused to see Justin flush as he realised how that comment could be misconstrued.

"No, I didn't mean that the way it sounded" he said quickly. "I meant that he's taken by someone else. A witch."

All eyes were now on Harry.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I asked Daphne Greengrass out last night," he explained.

Ernie whistled. "She's hot," he said appreciatively. The three girls and Harry glared at him. Realising his mistake he hurriedly continued "I mean, looked at objectively, she's an attractive girl and some ill-educated people might, in some circumstances, express that by making a crude comment like "She's hot", Not me, of course. Congratulations Harry" he finished nervously.

Harry couldn't help grinning at Ernie's backtracking, although the girls still looked somewhat annoyed. "Nice save".

As they had been talking the Express had pulled out of Hogsmead station and was now picking up speed as it headed south. Harry stood up.

"Come on Justin, lets circulate and spread the word about this summer school. Hermione sounded quite interested when I mentioned it last night."

"There's a surprise!" he replied. "Anyone else coming?"

"I will," said Neville. "I want to try and speak to Blaise, if I can."

The three of them wandered through the train, stopping at several carriages occupied by DA members and showing the brochure to anyone who expressed an interest.

Hermione, who they found sharing a carriage with Ron and Ginny, was thrilled at the idea of studying subjects not taught at Hogwarts. Ron was less thrilled.

"But it's summer, Harry" he protested. "Why do you want to study over the summer?"

"Because it sounds interesting," he replied. "It's not like you'll be studying full-time if you don't want to, and it gives us a chance to meet up over the summer."

Ginny had remained quiet up to this point. "It does sound interesting," she agreed, "but I can see two problems. The first is the cost. I don't think we can afford to do it."

"That's not a problem," said Harry, and explained his proposal to loan the course fees to anyone who wanted to borrow them.

Ron looked less than happy. "We don't need charity" he said mulishly.

"It's not charity, Ron," said Harry. "It's a loan. You will pay me back, but not until you've got a job."

Ginny spoke up again. "The second problem is mum. With Tom confirmed as being back I doubt she'll let us out of her sight all summer. I'm surprised Dumbledore will let you do it, to be honest."

Harry tensed. "Dumbledore has no say in what I do over the summer," he told her. "And what he doesn't know won't hurt him."

"If Ron and Ginny ask their mum for permission, they can't really avoid telling her that you're planning on attending" said Hermione. "And Mrs Weasley is bound to tell the Headmaster."

"Yeah, you're right," said Harry resignedly. "But I'm not going to let him stop me living my life this summer." He turned back to the Weasleys. "If you can get permission, I'll loan you the fees for whatever modules you want to take. If not, I'll still try to get to the Burrow over the summer to see you all. I'll be going to the open day next Wednesday, and I'll take enough galleons to cover the fees of anyone who wants to borrow them from me."

Hermione pulled a stack of parchment from her trunk, placed the brochure on top of it and tapped it three times with her wand. There was a brief flash of light, and she smiled and handed the brochure back to Justin. The stack of parchment underneath had become three new brochures and she handed one each to Ron and Ginny, keeping one for herself.

"Think about it, Ron" she said, as she settled back to read, "you can either spend the summer doing nothing, or do something productive. Voldemort's back, and the more we know the better chance we'll have against him and his Death Eaters."

Ron shook his head and reluctantly took a brochure. "I'll see if we can get mum to let us go to the open day" he said, "but don't count on seeing us there."

Harry shrugged. "It's your choice, Ron." He turned back to Justin and Neville. "Come on, let's finish speaking to everyone. We haven't seen Daphne or Tracey yet."

Ron's head shot up. "Why would you want to see Slytherins?" he said curiously.

"To tell them about the summer school, same as everyone else," replied Harry.

Justin smirked. "Really? No other reason you might want to find Miss Greengrass alone in a compartment?"

Harry rolled his eyes at him. "Yes. I want her to teach me the spiderweb hex. I get the feeling it might come in useful."

Ginny eyed Harry speculatively. "So when did you and Daphne Greengrass become a couple?"

Harry shook his head. "It's impossible to keep a secret in this place" he grumbled. "Last night, if you must know." He pulled open the compartment door, smiling at the dumbfounded look on Ron's face. "Come on."

Passing by several compartments containing younger students, Neville suddenly pulled Harry and Justin to a stop. "The next one is Malfoy's compartment," he warned. "I want to have a quick word with Blaise, but I don't want to go in on my own since I haven't got a new wand yet. Do you mind coming in with me?"

"Course not," said Harry. "It'll make a change, us visiting Malfoy on the train for once, rather than waiting for him to come and annoy us!"

Harry pulled open the door and stepped into the compartment. On one side sat Malfoy, flanked as ever by the hulking figures of Crabbe and Goyle. On the other side sat Blaise and Pansy Parkinson. Blaise looked at the three intruders and raised an eyebrow. "Potter, Finch-Fletchley, Neville. To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?"

Harry was intrigued that Blaise had used his and Justin's surnames, but not Neville's, and suspected that this was a good sign, at least for Neville.

"We just happened to be passing," said Harry casually, "and Neville wanted a word with you."

"And seeing that the delectable Miss Parkinson was in here too, we just had to come in and say 'Hello'" continued Justin, smiling at Pansy.

Up close, Harry noticed that Pansy's face was red and blotchy, and it appeared that she'd been crying. Justin had obviously noticed it too, as his voice became more serious as he sat down next to her and asked "Are you alright?"

"Mind your own business, Mudblood," snapped Malfoy from across the compartment. None of the others missed Pansy's obvious flinch at the sound of Malfoy's voice.

"I think we need a change of venue" said Harry firmly. Walking out of the compartment and down the corridor he found what he was looking for, and returning to Malfoy's compartment said "There's an empty compartment down at the end of this carriage. Blaise, Pansy, would you join us for a few minutes?"

Blaise stood up immediately and moved out of the carriage. As he moved past Harry, out of Malfoy's line of sight, he caught Pansy's eye and nodded towards the corridor. That seemed to be all the encouragement she needed, and she jumped up and followed him out into the corridor. Neville and Justin edged out too, keeping a wary eye on Malfoy, who smiled nastily at Harry as he began to close the door.

"You'll get what's coming to you, Potter," he said. "Azkaban won't hold those truly loyal to the Dark Lord for long. You, and all your friends, and all those who fail to uphold the ideals of Salazar Slytherin will fall before the Dark Lord. You might want to remind Zabini and Parkinson of that, before they do something they'll regret."

Harry shook his head sadly. Malfoy had a look in his eye that was eerily reminiscent of his Uncle Vernon when fulminating against immigration, or crime, or the abolition of capital punishment. He doubted that there was anything he could say that would force Malfoy to actually think critically about his ideals, let alone change his views. He knew, though, that zealots were dangerous and that he and his friends would have to keep a close eye on the Slytherin in future.

He made his way to the empty compartment he'd found earlier and, being the last one in, closed, silenced and sealed the door. "Just in case," he commented in response to Blaise's raised eyebrow. "No reason to let Malfoy eavesdrop."

Pansy was huddled in a corner, looking as though she was having second thoughts about accepting Harry's invitation. Harry took a deep breath.

"Pansy, I'm sorry about what happened earlier in the Great Hall, with Ron."

Pansy had looked up as he had begun speaking, but was clearly surprised at Harry's apology.

"Why? What did that have to do with you?"

Harry grimaced. "I was trying to wind Ron up, after he was a bit disparaging about Slytherins, and Neville and Hermione ran with it. We might have given him the impression that you fancied him. We weren't having a go at you, the conversation just ran away from us. I'm sorry if we've put you in Malfoy's bad books."

Pansy shrugged sadly. "It was my own fault, really. I just panicked when Weasley said what he did. And I had already fallen out with Draco."

"Well, I'm sorry anyway" repeated Harry. "By the way, after you'd left his carriage he told me to remind you that Voldemort will kill me and all my friends, before you do something you'll regret."

Blaise shook his head. "He's not had much luck at that so far, has he?" he asked rhetorically. "Draco's an idiot. God knows how he got sorted into Slytherin."

"Tracey and Daphne said the same thing," said Harry thoughtfully. "Thinking about it, where else could the hat put him? He's not brave enough for Gryffindor, not intelligent enough for Ravenclaw and not loyal and hardworking enough for Hufflepuff."

Pansy and Blaise looked intrigued as they considered Harry's comment, and then both began to smile. "That's definitely an opinion we'll share with him next year," promised Blaise.

"Be careful, " warned Harry. "He may be an idiot but he can still be dangerous, especially if he thinks that he can get away with anything he likes because he has his father and Voldemort behind him."

"If he tries anything, he'll regret it" said Blaise harshly. "Neither he nor the Dark Lord has anywhere near as much support as he seems to think. There are a lot of people in Slytherin who would welcome the opportunity of taking Draco down a peg or two. This year he's pushed a lot of them too far."

Harry gave Blaise a speculative look. "You don't sound too enamoured of Voldemort. Sorry, Riddle" he corrected at the Slytherins' shudders.

"Riddle?" said Pansy, puzzled. "What riddle?"

"No," explained Harry, "not 'riddle' as in puzzle. It's a name. Tom Marvolo Riddle. It's Voldemort's real name." He drew the flaming anagram in the air to demonstrate.

"Interesting," said Blaise, looking lost in thought. "I wonder . . ." he trailed off, before his attention snapped back to Harry. "How do you know this?"

"Long story," said Harry. "I've promised to show Daphne and Tracey my memory of finding out in a pensieve, if I can get hold of one. If I can, I'll let you know and show you too. OK?"

"I'll hold you to that, Potter" said Blaise with a grin. "If the rumours about some of the things you've got up to over the past five years are anything close to the truth, there are quite a few memories I wouldn't mind seeing."

"Yes, well," Harry hedged. "I'm sure there's a lot of exaggeration gone on, but we'll see. I have to find a pensieve first."

"What's a pensieve?" asked Pansy curiously.

"A very rare magical artefact," replied Blaise. "I've never seen one, but my father says they are like muggle television. You place a memory into it, although I'm not sure how, and it plays back that memory for those watching."

"They can do that, " said Harry, "but you can also actually go into the memory, so it's as though you're actually there, although you can't influence what's going on of course."

"So we could experience you killing a basilisk at first hand?" said Justin with a grin.

Harry thought about his experience in the Chamber of Secrets. "I'm not sure if that would be safe" he admitted. "At least, not to begin with. The memories I've been into were completely real, I couldn't tell they were memories. Could you get killed if a 'memory' basilisk looked at you? If you could, you'd have to be very careful. Although I suppose you could wear blindfolds until it was blinded. You'd be alright after that."

The two Slytherins stared at Harry speechlessly.

"I definitely want to see that," said Blaise. "I'll give you my owl address. If you get hold of a pensieve, let me know." He scribbled details on a piece of parchment and handed it to Harry.

Harry tucked the parchment into his robes. "While you're here," he said to Blaise and Pansy, "we've been talking to a few people about a summer school. Are either of you interested?" He handed them a copy of the brochure, and the two Slytherins studied it for a few minutes.

"Sounds interesting," Blaise commented. "Are you three going to the open day?"

"Yes," replied Harry, "and so are quite a few others."

Both Blaise and Pansy copied down the address of the Academy's secretary. "Then I suspect we'll see you on Wednesday," said Blaise. He looked at Neville and asked: "What are you doing on Monday?"

"Nothing, as far as I know."

"Floo over for lunch. Mother would be delighted to see you after all this time. So would Sophie and Pierre."

Neville smiled. "I'll see you on Monday."

Harry stood up and cancelled the charms on the door of the compartment. "I'm going to find Daphne and Tracey. I'll catch up with you later. I assume you're staying here and not going back to Malfoy's compartment?"

"I'll stay here with Pansy," volunteered Justin. He coloured under the gaze of the others. "What? I consider it my duty to bring succour to distraught witches, whatever their house affiliation" he protested.

"If he makes any inappropriate suggestions, hex him 'til he squeals" advised Harry as he left the compartment. "I'm starting to think he might be a bit of a masochist."

**OoOoO**

Harry eventually located his new girlfriend and settled down with her and Tracey to discuss the summer school brochure, as well as the earlier events in the Great Hall and Harry's more recent train conversations. Over the next few hours they were visited by most of the DA, news of Harry asking Daphne out having spread through the train like wildfire. Even Pansy made an appearance, without Justin. It didn't take much questioning to find out that she'd glued him to the ceiling of the compartment Harry had left them in, although she wouldn't explain what he'd said to deserve that.

In no time at all, or so it seemed, the Express was rattling through North London towards Kings Cross, and Harry returned to his first compartment to collect his trunk, his good mood starting to fade at the prospect of greeting his relatives. Hermione gave him a sympathetic look as he helped her off the Express with her trunk.

"Don't worry, Harry," she said reassuringly. "It won't be like last summer. We're not going to abandon you. In fact, you'll probably see all of us regularly if we all sign up for classes at the Dee Academy."

Justin appeared behind Hermione, looking slightly rumpled. "Two hours it's taken me to unglue myself" he complained. "But Hermione's right. We should all try to keep in touch over the summer, even if we aren't all studying at the Dee Academy."

"We will," promised Harry. "But I'll see you both next Wednesday anyway, and we can sort out some get-togethers outside of studying then."

Hermione and Justin both spotted parents in the crowd, and Harry excused himself to say goodbye to the Weasleys, who he could see over to one side of the platform. Managing to extricate himself with difficulty from a Molly Weasley special, he quietly reminded Ron and Ginny about the open day before beginning to look around the platform for the Dursleys. He quickly spotted them close to the barrier and reluctantly moved in their direction.

As he got closer, Harry realised that although his aunt and uncle looked much the same as always, Dudley's appearance had changed radically since he had seen him last. He looked slim and fit with not a trace of fat on him, meaning that to Harry's mind he had lost at least six stones and probably more.

Dudley was the first to spot Harry approaching and moved towards him. "Hi, Harry," he said nervously. "Had a good year?"

Harry looked at his cousin incredulously, but quickly realised that Dudley could have no idea of what Harry's year had been like and was actually trying to be pleasant.

"Could have been better," he finally replied. "You?"

"It got better as it went on," admitted Dudley. "But it could have been a lot worse if you hadn't scared off those . . . dementors, was it?"

"Yes it could," agreed Aunt Petunia, moving to Dudley's side. "You left before we could really thank you last summer. Things were very confused that night, and afterwards, but you saved Dudley's life. Thank you." She elbowed Uncle Vernon, who was now stood next to her, in the ribs. He looked extremely uncomfortable, but also surprisingly calm to Harry's eyes, given that he was surrounded by hundreds of wizards and witches.

"Yes, well," Vernon said gruffly, "very grateful, and all that."

Harry could hardly believe his ears. Not only were his relatives being polite to him, they were actually thanking him for saving Dudley's life.

"That's alright," he said tentatively. "I'm pleased everything turned out OK."

Vernon nodded. "Right, well, lets get your stuff back to the car," he said, only to be interrupted by a call of "Harry" from the slowly thinning crowd.

Daphne emerged from behind a gaggle of elderly witches, dragging a middle-aged couple behind her.

"I thought I'd missed you," she said, catching her breath. "I just wanted to introduce you to my parents. Mum, Dad, this is Harry Potter. Harry, my parents Agamemnon and Helia Greengrass."

Marvelling inwardly at another example of the wizarding world's naming preferences Harry smiled and shook hands with the Greengrasses.

He turned to indicate his relatives, and said "Daphne, Mr and Mrs Greengrass, these are my aunt and uncle, Petunia and Vernon Dursley, and my cousin Dudley."

The Greengrasses and Dursleys shook hands, even Vernon, much to Harry's amazement. Turning to Harry, Mrs Greengrass said "Daphne tells me you have a genealogical question that I might be able to help you with."

"I do," Harry replied. "I know Voldemort's real name, and that his father was a muggle and his mother a witch. He told me that his middle name, Marvolo, came from his grandfather and I wondered if you knew anything about a Marvolo family."

"Are you sure that he's a half-blood?" interrupted Mr Greengrass. "I've never heard that before."

"Positive," said Harry. "I'm going to try and get hold of a pensieve this summer and if I do I told Daphne I'd let you see a memory of my conversation with him." He turned back to Mrs Greengrass, who was lost in thought.

"I recognise the name Marvolo," she said, "but I can't think where I've seen it. I'll need to do some research. But I'd like to see that memory, too. Pensieves are very rare, unfortunately, and we don't have one – if we did, I'd offer to let you use it."

It hadn't really occurred to Harry that he'd have any problems obtaining a pensieve; he had assumed that they were common magical items. But Blaise and now Mrs Greengrass had suggested that they were actually quite rare. He supposed that he shouldn't be too surprised; Dumbledore, the most celebrated wizard in Britain, was likely to have accumulated many rare books and items over the course of a very long life. Of course, for all he knew the pensieve in the Headmaster's office might belong to Hogwarts rather than be Dumbledore's personal pensieve.

Harry focused his attention back on the Greengrasses. "Do either of you know where I might be able to find a pensieve? How rare are they?"

"Very," said Mr Greengrass regretfully. "As I understand it, you would need almost an instinctual mastery of charms, runes and enchanting to even think about making one, and the time it would take someone with that knowledge to craft one means that the cost of buying it would be almost prohibitive. The ones in existence tend to be the personal possessions of master enchanters, and there have been few enough of them over the years to mean there are probably no more than half a dozen in the whole country. The Ministry has one, I believe, and Albus Dumbledore supposedly has one, but I have no idea where any others might be."

Harry noticed that Mrs Greengrass was smiling. "I might have an idea," she said. "Harry, one of your ancestors was a master enchanter in the eighteenth century. I once had a conversation with your grandfather in which he referred to "reviewing his memories". It's a hunch more than anything, but I think he might have owned the Rhadamanthus pensieve."

"The Rhadamanthus pensieve?" queried Harry.

Agamemnon Greengrass laughed. "We wizards love to name objects of magical power, and pensieves certainly qualify. As Helia said, Rhadamanthus Potter was a powerful enchanter, and several of his creations are named after him."

Harry shrugged. "If my grandfather did own one, I don't know what happened to it after he died. It certainly didn't come to me, the only 'Potter' things that I own are a cloak and a map that were both my dad's." He turned to look at his aunt and uncle, who had been listening with apparent interest. "I don't suppose you know of anything of my mum and dad's that might have come from my grandparents'?" asked Harry tentatively.

Petunia shook her head with apparent regret. "All you arrived with was the clothes you were wearing," she said. "No-one has ever tried to pass on anything else, or suggested that there might be anything to pass on. The letter from your headmaster said that Lily and James's house had been destroyed, so we assumed that there was nothing left, although I suppose the land itself would have some value if it actually belonged to them."

Helia Greengrass looked puzzled. "That can't be right. The house at Godric's Hollow may well have been destroyed, but Charlus Potter – your grandfather - ," she said in an aside to Harry, " never lived there. He and Dorea had a house in London. I would assume it was mothballed when they died, and the valuables transferred to an artefact vault at Gringotts."

"Really?" said Harry eagerly. "You think I might have a house somewhere?"

"It's certainly possible," Mrs Greengrass confirmed. "Most of the older families, and the Potters are one of those, tend to entail their properties, so they pass down through the family. The terms of the entails make it difficult for properties to be disposed of, and I doubt your parents would have been able to break an entail and sell Charlus's house in the short time between his death and their own."

"How would I find out where it is? And what's an artefact vault?" asked Harry.

"You need to speak to a solicitor," advised Mr Greengrass. "Your grandfather's will should be on file somewhere and that will give all the details you need. Artefact vaults are just a type of Gringotts vault, used for storing possessions rather than money. The goblins should be able to tell you whether the Potters had one, although you might not be able to get into it until you're seventeen. That's something else you'd need to talk to a solicitor about."

Harry's mind was awhirl with possibilities. He might have a house and contents, and these would surely include family items that would give him a connection to his family. He looked at his uncle, expecting to see a lascivious gleam in his eye at the thought that Harry might have money. Harry had been very careful not to mention his vault over the years for fear that his uncle would try to relieve him of its contents. To his surprise, though, although his relatives all looked interested in the conversation there was no outward sign of greed.

This very untypical behaviour was starting to worry Harry. Mad-Eye Moody's mantra popped into his head, and he began to edge away from his family.

"Uncle Vernon," he began nervously, "I'm not trying to insult you here, but to be blunt none of you are behaving how I'd expect, or how I'm used to seeing you behave. There are magical ways to impersonate people, and there are quite a few people who want to get their hands on me. Impersonating you as a way to kidnap me is one way they might think of. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions, just to reassure me that you really are who you look like?" By this point Harry was standing next to the Greengrasses, all of whom had drawn their wands as Harry had been talking."

At Harry's statement Vernon had begun to puff up, and he now looked outraged to be facing four wands, including that of his nephew.

"How dare you!" he began to bluster, "we come to London to collect you, and this . . ."

He got no further, as with a hissed "Vernon", Petunia elbowed him sharply in the ribs, bringing his diatribe to a halt with a startled "Oof!" She turned to Harry.

"You're right, Harry, we are behaving differently, most of the time," she said with a glare at Vernon, who now looked rather shamefaced, "and we'll explain more later, when there aren't so many people around." She glanced at the Greengrasses. "I'd rather explain in private. Go on, ask what you need to satisfy yourself that we are who we say we are."

Harry turned first to Dudley. "What did Hagrid do to you, the first time we met him on my eleventh birthday?"

Dudley looked embarrassed. "He gave me a pig's tail," he said quietly.

That in itself convinced Harry that the Dursleys were who they said they were. Hagrid had asked him not to mention the incident, as he wasn't allowed to perform magic, and Harry had kept it a secret. But for form's sake he turned next to his aunt.

"What happened the time you cut off all my hair because it wouldn't stay looking neat?"

Petunia gave him a wan smile. "It all grew back overnight," she sighed.

Finally turning to Vernon, Harry asked "What was the make and model of your first company car?", figuring that a pureblood Death Eater would be unlikely to have a great deal of knowledge on that subject.

"A Vauxhall Cavalier" replied Vernon, looking slightly relieved, probably because the question didn't involve magic, thought Harry.

"OK," conceded Harry. "You're you. Sorry about that." He looked back at the Greengrasses.

"Thanks for the information about my grandparents' house. I'll definitely talk to a solicitor, and if I find a pensieve I'll let you know." He smiled at Daphne. "See you on Wednesday?"

"Of course," she smiled back, then darted forward and kissed him on the cheek, blushing furiously.

Agamemnon Greengrass was now looking at Harry through narrowed eyes, although his wife was grinning. "Come on, dear," she said, pulling him towards the exit from the platform. With a final wave towards Harry, Daphne followed them.

Harry rubbed his cheek thoughtfully under the somewhat amused gaze of his relatives. Even his uncle seemed to be fighting a smile.

"Right then, lets get going," said Petunia briskly. "Dudley, help Harry with his trunk. Vernon, you take the owl cage."

Vernon didn't look entirely happy with this, but picked up Hedwig's cage anyway. Dudley simply rolled his eyes and picked up one end of the trunk waiting for Harry to grab the other. The four of them then made their way out of the station and down a nearby side street to find Vernon's car. In short order Harry's things were packed and they began the journey back to Little Whinging.

As they headed along Euston Road, Petunia cleared her throat. "Well, as you said back at the station, Harry, we're behaving differently to what you're used to. I suppose this is as good a time as any to try and explain." She paused, and Harry held his breath, wondering what was coming next.

"After she went away to Hogwarts, I had very little to do with my sister," she began. "To be honest, I was jealous of her. She was a witch; she could do magic, things that I could only dream of. And our parents were ecstatic about it. It seemed that nothing I did could compare to Lily's exploits. I was second best, the poor relation, and I resented it badly. I fell out with her, with my parents, and left home as soon as I could. The last time I saw Lily was the summer after her third year, just before I moved out."

Harry was stunned. "You mean you never saw or spoke to my mum after she was, what, 14?"

"That's right," said Petunia. "I had news of what she was doing, of course; I still spoke to my parents, although not often. But I fell out with them, too, when I turned down the invitation to Lily's wedding. I've only spoken to them once in the last 18 years." She paused again. "The day after you were left on our doorstep I 'phoned my mother to tell her that Lily, James . . . and you . . . had been killed, and told her never to contact me again. She never has."

The car was silent. But before Harry could ask any questions, Petunia continued speaking.

"All the resentment that I felt towards Lily, I spent the next fourteen years taking out on you. I decided that I'd make Lily's son feel all the things I'd felt as a child, and treat Dudley as my parents had treated Lily. I'd told Vernon horror stories about magic, and how I'd been treated as a child, and he followed my lead. Dudley picked up on our treatment of you and did the same."

Harry turned to look at Dudley, who was staring impassively at the back of his mother's head. It was clear that he had heard this before."

"And then last year, despite everything, despite the way we'd treated you, you saved Dudley's life. You didn't have to, you could have just run and saved yourself. But you didn't."

Dudley then spoke up. "I had nightmares every night for weeks, I still get them regularly. When that thing loomed over me, it was like I relived every bad thing I'd ever done in my life. And most of them involved you. Bullying you, calling you names, and just generally being happy at my mum and dad's treatment of you. And that's what I see in the nightmares, too. All the bad things I ever did. I wake up, feeling completely worthless, as though I'll never be happy again, and keep thinking over and over: "Why did Harry save me?" I, we all, treated you like crap your entire life, and you still saved me."

Petunia took over again. "Dudley was in a terrible state. He wasn't sleeping, wasn't eating, wouldn't speak to anyone. The doctor eventually referred him to a psychiatrist, and she insisted on seeing me and Vernon too. She said that the root of Dudley's problems was in his upbringing and that to address them, we had to address his upbringing too. I ended up reliving my own childhood, and my relationship with Lily and my parents. Objectively. And I was horrified."

"Was it really that bad?" asked Harry, almost afraid to hear the answer.

"No," said Petunia quietly. "It wasn't. My parents were as proud of me as they were of Lily. They supported me in whatever I wanted to do, and never treated me as inferior just because I wasn't magical. I was a teenager, determined to find fault with them, determined to feel oppressed, and Lily was a ready-made excuse. They all tried their hardest to show me that I was wrong, but I never listened. 'Teenage rebellion', the psychiatrist called it. So I fell out with everyone, deliberately misconstrued all of my family's actions, turned everything they did into an insult to me, and eventually broke off all ties with them. And if that wasn't bad enough, taking out my insecurities on my parents and sister, I let them fester and ended up taking them out on you as well."

Harry hardly knew what to think. He had always known that his relatives hadn't liked him, but had never understood why. Then he had received his Hogwarts letter and had assumed it was just a violent dislike of magic, as irrational as that had always seemed. This, though, actually made sense. He could even see a parallel to his aunt in Ron Weasley; he could see how resentment could fester and potentially ruin friendships. And his aunt's resentment had obviously been festering for a long time.

"So what does this mean?" asked Harry.

Dudley answered. "We've been having sessions with the psychiatrist for the last six months. Working through our issues. We haven't told her about the dementors of course, or magic" he said with a small smile, "but we've told her everything else. And we've talked about what we've done, and why, and how we're going to change in the future."

"And a big part of those changes is how we behave towards you," said Petunia. "We want to try and put all of our past behaviour behind us and start again. Or at least try to."

"What, and become one big, happy family," said Harry incredulously. "After the way you've treated me my whole life, you think that we can just forget about the last fifteen years and start over?"

"No," said Dudley. "We can't forget about the last fifteen years. But we can at least try to make things better, if you're willing."

"And if I'm not?" asked Harry.

"Then we accept it," said Petunia sadly. "You have no reason to want to have anything to do with us, and we can't blame you for that. Nevertheless, you do have a home with us for as long as you need it. And whilever you do, we WILL treat you properly, as a member of our family."

Through Petunia and Dudley's explanations, Vernon had remained silent, concentrating on the road. Harry caught his eye in the rear-view mirror.

"What about you, Uncle Vernon? What do you think to all of this?"

For a moment Harry didn't think that his uncle was going to reply, but then he sighed and his eyes flashed to Harry again in the mirror.

"I'm not proud of how I've treated you," he said. "Looking back I can hardly believe some of the things I've done and I can't justify my behaviour. But I am trying to change. I doubt it will happen overnight, but I am willing to try."

Silence fell over the car, as Harry considered what to say. Part of him wanted to outright reject any overtures from his family. They'd had their chance and blown it and he should simply wash his hands of them. He'd be seventeen in just over a year, and after this summer he never needed to go back to Privet Drive again.

On the other hand, the Dursleys _were_ his family. No matter how welcome he always felt, and was made to feel at the Burrow, he always knew that the Weasleys weren't his family. As far back as he could remember all he had ever really wanted was a family, a desire that had become painfully clear when he had found the Mirror of Erised in his first year at Hogwarts. Now he had a chance at that family, could he really ignore it? Harry made up his mind.

"Alright," he said. "We've got two and a half months before I go back to Hogwarts. Let's see how we get on."

"Thank you, Harry," said Petunia quietly from the front seat.

A less oppressive silence fell over the car, broken by Dudley's casual "So, Harry, how long have you been going out with this Daphne Greengrass?"

Harry shook his head in resignation. It seemed that he couldn't get away from questions about his love life even away from Hogwarts.

"I asked her out last night," he admitted. "Hopefully I'll get to see her a bit over the summer. There's a summer school that a few of us are interested in signing up for."

"Summer school?" queried Petunia, sounding disappointed. "So you weren't planning on staying with us for the summer anyway?"

"I was," Harry reassured her. "I don't think the summer school is residential, but there's an open day on Wednesday so I'll find out more, then."

"It's not at Hogwarts, then?" asked Dudley curiously.

"No, it's a school somewhere in Wales," said Harry. "I have to write to the secretary and get a portkey. Perhaps they'll give us reusable ones to get there and back once we sign up."

"What's a portkey?" Dudley and Petunia asked almost in unison. Harry shook his head, still somewhat bemused at the fact that his relatives weren't only allowing him to talk about magic, but were actually asking him questions about it.

"A method of transport. It's sort of like . . .," Harry wracked his brain, trying to think how best to describe it. Old science fiction TV programmes popped into his mind. "It's like a transporter on 'Star Trek'. You cast a spell on an object, that's set to go off at a certain time, or when you trigger it in a certain way, and when it's triggered the object gets transported to wherever the spell is programmed to send it, and it takes you with it."

"Wicked," breathed Dudley. "And you can send yourself anywhere like that?"

Harry thought about it, and realised he didn't really know how portkeys worked, or any limitations they might have.

"I'm not sure," he admitted. "You must have to set the destination somehow, and I think there are probably wards that can block them. I suppose there are limits on distance, too, but it's not a spell I know, yet. I've used portkeys a few times, and seen them made, but that's about the limit of my knowledge."

Dudley looked fascinated and was clearly thinking through Harry's explanation. "So this school sends you a portkey, and it'll transport you there, because they'll have set it with the school as a destination. But unless someone at the school knows where you live, they couldn't set one to bring you back. Unless you set them with co-ordinates, like GPS?" he finished uncertainly.

Now it was Harry's turn to be confused. "What's GPS?"

"Global Positioning System," Dudley explained. It's an electronic gizmo that tells you where you are. Everywhere's got a unique reference, like a map reference on an Ordnance Survey map. The GPS thing tells you where you are, exactly."

"That's pretty clever," said Harry. "Somehow I doubt wizards would come up with a logical system like that, but you never know. I suppose I'll find out on Wednesday."

"So what will you be learning at summer school?" asked Petunia from the front seat.

"Well," Harry replied, "how much do you know about the subjects I study at Hogwarts?"

"Nothing," said Dudley, at the same time as Petunia said "I remember some things that Lily told me about when she first started. Turning things into other things, transfiguration I think she called it. But not much else."

"Right," said Harry, and spent the rest of the journey back to Little Whinging taking them through the Hogwarts curriculum. By the time they pulled onto Privet Drive he'd explained the various subjects he'd studied, as well as the new ones available at the Dee Academy, to the obvious interest of Dudley and Petunia. Even his uncle had asked a couple of questions.

Climbing out of the car Harry looked up at his childhood home, or prison as he had often considered it. From the outside it looked the same as usual, but if his relatives were to believed the atmosphere inside would be very different from now on.

His first surprise came as he pushed open the door to his room as he and Dudley manhandled his trunk across the landing. Gone was the old bed with the sagging mattress, and the broken desk and chair. They had been replaced by a new, comfortable looking bed and a sleek modern-looking desk and swivel chair, with several bookshelves affixed to the wall above it. A new wardrobe stood in the corner. The room had also been decorated and there was a new carpet on the floor. Harry hardly recognised it.

"What do you think?" asked Dudley nervously, as Harry surveyed the room. It actually felt homely. This, coupled with the conversations in the car, were finally beginning to convince Harry that his relatives were serious and were genuinely trying to change.

"Nice," Harry told Dudley appreciatively.

Dudley looked relieved. "Well, I'll leave you to unpack. If you want anything, give me a shout."

Harry unlocked his trunk and began to transfer his clothes to the wardrobe, grimacing at the state of most of them, which were still Dudley's cast-offs from the previous year. Well, that would change he decided. He wasn't sure if his aunt and uncle's new attitude would extend to buying him new clothes, but even if it didn't he had his own money. He was no longer prepared to look like a badly dressed scarecrow.

After the clothes came his textbooks, and those went onto his new bookshelves. The texts included many spells that were either not covered during the year, or only briefly skated over, and these would be the subject of his summer revision, in addition to whatever work he had to do for his summer school subjects. It was a relief, he decided, that there was no summer homework this year because of the uncertainty over what subjects he would actually be studying for his NEWTs. OWL results were not expected to be released until mid August.

Finally, Harry withdrew the few mementoes he had acquired over the years. His photo album, the model of the Hungarian Horntail from the first task of the Triwizard tournament (now still, the animation charm having long since worn off), his pocket sneakoscope. Not much to show for nearly sixteen years, he thought sadly, as he arranged them on his new desk.

Shaking himself free of that thought, he headed downstairs at a call from Aunt Petunia that dinner was ready, and wondered what further surprises would arise during an evening with his relatives.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3, in which mysterious beasts are discussed**

_Sunday 16 June 1996_

Harry was disoriented when he awoke on the first day proper of his summer holidays, blinking groggily as he took in the blurred view of his new room, before memories of the previous day returned.

He had spent the previous evening talking more with his relatives and had ended up telling them, in very general terms, of his experiences at Hogwarts over the past five years. Dudley, Petunia and even Vernon had been shocked at some of the situations Harry had found himself in, and their clearly genuine outrage on his behalf was what had finally convinced him that their attitude change towards him was real.

At the end of the evening Petunia had, rather hesitantly, asked him if he'd like to go on a shopping trip the next day to buy new clothes and Harry had happily agreed, remembering his decision to replace his wardrobe of hand-me-downs. He would still need new wizarding outfits too, but those could wait until he visited Diagon Alley later in the week, and in any event he wasn't especially keen on wizarding fashion. His school robes weren't too bad, being worn over ordinary clothes, but wizarding casual wear, which also had a strong 'robes' element, left him cold. Dumbledore might be happy to look like the dress-wearing victim of an explosion in a Hawaiian shirt factory, but Harry preferred jeans and a t-shirt.

After a quick shower, Harry sat at his new desk and wrote a quick note to the secretary of the Dee Academy asking for a portkey for Wednesday, and sent it off with Hedwig. Breakfast followed, and before long Harry and the Dursleys were heading towards Guildford on their shopping trip.

"Why have most of the cars got little flags on them?" asked Harry curiously, as a stream of cars going in the opposite direction all had the cross of St George attached to their aerials.

Dudley looked at him incredulously. "It's Euro '96," he said. "You really are completely isolated from the rest of the country at Hogwarts, aren't you?"

Several overheard conversations between Dean and Seamus came back to Harry. "Football," he said understandingly. "It's just not something I've ever really been interested in. I prefer quidditch." Conversation for the remainder of the journey alternated between Harry trying to persuade Dudley that no sport played on the ground could really be that interesting, and Dudley giving Harry a blow-by-blow account of the previous afternoon's match between Scotland and England which the Dursleys had watched (Petunia somewhat reluctantly, it appeared) in a pub near Kings Cross whilst waiting for the Hogwarts Express. Scotland didn't seem to have done too well. Harry wondered if Professor McGonagall was a fan and, if so, whether he could work England's victory into the conversation the next time he saw her.

Several rather exhausting hours later Harry was the proud possessor of more clothes than he thought he could ever wear – jeans, shirts, t-shirts, shoes, Petunia had equipped him with the lot. He had tried to protest at the quantity, but it seemed that Petunia saw clothes shopping as one way to make up for her past treatment of her nephew. Harry, though, was genuinely grateful. For the first time he could remember he would have clothes that fit properly, and his good mood was infectious.

Back in Little Whinging Harry spent the afternoon reading through some of his textbooks from the previous year, and then spent a rather confusing couple of hours watching a football match on TV between Croatia and Denmark. Whilst still not a fan, by the end of the game he had to admit that it was interesting to watch.

Hedwig hadn't yet returned from the Dee Academy, but Harry knew that he needed to make a trip to Gringotts before Wednesday to withdraw enough galleons to cover his friends' course fees.

"What's the best way to get up to London from here?" Harry asked his cousin.

"Train from Great Whinging," came the reply. "It's about half an hour to Charing Cross. Why?"

"I need to go to the bank and do some shopping," explained Harry. "I was thinking of going up on Tuesday."

Dudley looked pensive. "Can I come?" he asked tentatively. "I wouldn't mind seeing what the magical bit of London looks like. Or if I'm not allowed in, I could hang around while you're in there and we could go around ordinary London."

Harry was surprised. It had honestly not occurred to him that Dudley might genuinely want to spend time with him over the summer, or to have more exposure to the magical world. Thinking it through he could see no reason why Dudley couldn't go with him to Diagon Alley. It was certainly accessible to muggles, since he remembered meeting Hermione's parents in the Alley one year. The problem, though, was that he, Harry, was a target of some very unpleasant characters. Dudley might, therefore, also become a target through association and unlike Harry's other friends had no way of defending himself against magical attack. He explained this to his cousin, who simply shrugged.

"If it's safe for you to go there, I should be OK" he said. "It'll be the middle of the day in a crowded shopping area. I'm game if you are. If people are too scared to go anywhere out of fear of being attacked, this Voldemort bloke's already won."

Harry grinned at his cousin's attitude, although he realised that Dudley still didn't realise exactly how dangerous magic could be when used in anger. "Fair enough," he concluded. "Can you lend me the train fare until we can visit the bank?"

Petunia came into the lounge, obviously having overheard their conversation. "I'll give you both the train fare" she said briskly, before looking closely at Harry. "Just be careful."

Dudley rolled his eyes, but Harry nodded seriously at his aunt. "We will," he assured her, and she seemed satisfied with that answer.

Harry rose, intending to head upstairs for some study before an early night.

"Are you doing anything tomorrow?" asked Dudley, suddenly.

Harry paused. "I don't think so," he replied. "Probably just studying, although there's not much more I can get out of the books I've got. That's one reason I want to go to London, to pick up some new books. Why?"

Dudley looked slightly nervous. "You might think it's a bit daft, but after the dementors last year I wanted to find out as much as I could about your world, but that's easier said than done, since you keep it all so secret. But I ended up reading a lot of books about mysterious happenings, unexplained phenomena, ghosts, UFOs, and the like. Since I know that magic exists, I thought that all of the other stuff might be real, too."

Harry nodded, thoughtfully. "That's not a bad idea. A lot of that stuff is probably based on people seeing magical stuff and not understanding it. The Ministry have people called obliviators who are meant to track down people who see stuff they're not meant to and modify their memories, but I doubt they find everyone."

"So things like ghosts, UFOs, bigfoot and stuff really exist?"

"Well, ghosts certainly exist," confirmed Harry. "Hogwarts is infested with them. Bigfoot sounds like it might be some sort of magical creature, given that no-one's ever managed to catch one, although I don't know what it might be. Things like dragons and unicorns are real. And giant talking spiders." Harry shuddered, remembering Aragog. "I don't know about UFOs, but I suppose they could be wizards on brooms."

Dudley was listening eagerly. "What about big cats? Are there any magical cats living wild in the UK?"

Harry had to admit ignorance. "There are certainly magical types of big cat, but I don't know if any of them live in the UK. A friend of mine might, though, and I can ask her when I next see her. Why?"

Dudley now looked rather embarrassed. "Well, one of the books I read was about the Surrey Puma. Back in the 60s there were a lot of sightings of a big cat round here, and since it was local I got quite interested in it. Then I found out that there was a group in Guildford who investigate more recent sightings, so I went along to one of their meetings and ended up joining. It's not a very big group – the guy who runs it is a student at the University – and we meet every other Monday. The next meeting's tomorrow evening, and I wondered if you wanted to come along."

Harry was surprised anew at the change in Dudley over the previous year. He simply couldn't imagine the 'old' Dudley having anything to do with mysterious beast investigation groups, especially since the subject matter would have been so disapproved of by his parents. The subject matter sounded quite interesting, though. He'd always enjoyed Hagrid's Care of Magical Creatures lessons (blast-ended skrewts aside) and was curious about possible magical creatures in the area.

Dudley took Harry's silence as reluctance, and began to back-pedal. "It's OK if you don't, I mean, I know that you know more about this stuff than me, or anyone else in SABRE, I just thought I'd ask."

"No, no," Harry reassured him. "I was just thinking about something else. It sounds interesting." He suddenly had a thought. "Will your mates be there? Piers and Malcolm and that lot?"

Dudley's embarrassment returned. "They're not really my mates anymore. When I was . . . depressed . . . last summer, they didn't want anything to do with me. And when I started to, well, change my attitude they were even less interested. I haven't spoken to any of them for months, and don't really want to. They've been getting a really bad reputation round here and I don't want that any more."

Harry wasn't really surprised. Piers had always been a nasty piece of work, and the others weren't much better.

"So who do you hang round with now?" asked Harry curiously.

Dudley looked even more embarrassed. "No-one, really. No-one I go to school with, or who lives round here, wants anything to do with me. Hardly surprising, since I've spent most of the last ten years picking on them."

Harry nodded sympathetically. "Well, they'll come round," he said encouragingly. "And yes, I'll come along to . . ." he trailed off. "What did you call it? SABRE?"

"Not my idea of a name," said Dudley quickly. "It stands for "Surrey Anomalous Beasts Research Enterprise."

Harry grinned. "Whoever came up with that has a better eye for an acronym than my friend Hermione. She set up a group to promote fair treatment for house elves – wizards use them as domestic servants – and called it the Society for the Promotion of Elvish Welfare."

"SPEW?" said Dudley incredulously. "Was that deliberate?"

"Course it wasn't," laughed Harry. She really didn't realise what she'd done until she had the badges printed, and by then it was too late. She tried to get us to spell it out - S.P.E.W. – but it never really took off."

After a moment's silence, Harry said "Tell you what, I'll go and see if Hedwig's back and if she is I'll write to my friend Luna. She's really interested in strange creatures, and since we're magical some of them can be really strange. If there are any magical big cats knocking about in Surrey, she'll probably have heard about them."

**OoOoO**

There was no sign of Hedwig when Harry got to his room, so he settled down to some study. Just as he was starting to think of calling it a night, though, he heard a whisper of wings and Hedwig swooped gently through the open window, a package tied to her leg. Harry quickly untied it and found a small brass disc engraved with the number "28" and a letter addressed to him.

_Dear Mr Potter,_

_Thank you for your owl, and your expression of interest in the Dee Academy's summer school._

_The enclosed disc is a timed portkey to the Academy's Great Hall on the morning of 19 June. The portkeys are timed at 30-second intervals, beginning with portkey "1" at 9:30am. Please ensure that you are holding your portkey securely at your departure time._

_All visitors to the Academy will be transported home at the end of the day by the Academy's School Bus, which will leave the Academy at approximately 3pm. Lunch will be provided for all visitors._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Adam Scott_

_Academy Secretary_

Harry carefully placed the disc in one of his desk drawers, and pulled out a quill and parchment for a letter to Luna.

_Dear Luna,_

_I hope you arrived home safely. I've just received my portkey for the Dee Academy open day on Wednesday, so will see you then. Do you know what the "School Bus" is? Is it similar to the Knight Bus?_

_I've been talking to my cousin Dudley (who is much changed since last year, as are my aunt and uncle), and he has invited me along to a meeting of a 'mystery big cat' investigation group that he's a member of. Although lots of people (muggles) see big cats in the UK, no-one's ever caught one and a lot of people don't think they really exist. He (and I) wondered if they might be magical. Do you (or your Dad) know if there are any breeds of magical cat native to Britain that all these muggles might be seeing? I couldn't see anything in my Care of Magical Creatures textbook, but I'm sure there are more creatures out there than are covered in that book._

_We're going to the meeting in Guildford tomorrow evening, so if you could let me have a reply by then, that would be great. Not that we can tell the people there if these big cats are indeed magical, but if they are Dudley and I (knowing about magic) might have a better chance at seeing them. Hedwig can stay with you until you're ready to write back._

_Regards,_

_Harry_

"Take this to Luna Lovegood, please, Hedwig," Harry told his owl. She'll probably write back, so you can stay with her until she's ready.

Hedwig gave a soft bark, stretched her wings and floated lightly off into the night.

**OoOoO**

_Monday 17 June 1996_

Harry was up early the next morning, and put in an hour of Charms study before he heard anyone else stirring. Heading downstairs he ate breakfast with his family (cereal and toast only, it seemed that fry-ups were a thing of the past) and seeing it was a fine day decided he ought to get some fresh air and sun.

"Do you want me to mow the lawns, Aunt Petunia?" he asked, having seen that the grass was longer than usual.

"You don't have to work this summer," his aunt replied quickly.

"No, that's OK," Harry reassured her. "I could do with some fresh air, and I don't mind gardening too much. I can spruce things up in a couple of hours."

"I'll give you a hand," Dudley yawned. "Might wake me up a bit."

In short order the cousins were pulling gardening equipment out of the shed and set to work on the Dursleys' back garden. It was fairly large, but after several hours work, with a break for lunch, was looking much tidier. They moved on to the smaller front garden, and soon that too was looking as smart as most of the other gardens on the street. Harry finished weeding a flowerbed and stood up, stretching to ease out his aching back, and saw that Aunt Petunia had been watching him and Dudley working.

Petunia looked at the tidy garden approvingly. "You've made a good job of that . . ." she began, when they were distracted by a loud bang from the road. Harry's jaw dropped as the Knight Bus appeared out of thin air and screeched to a halt outside No 4. He, at least, had seen it before. Both Dudley and Petunia looked dumbfounded at the sudden appearance of the enormous purple triple-decker.

The bus door creaked open and, to Harry's astonishment, with a cheery "Thanks" Luna Lovegood stepped onto the pavement. There was another loud bang, and the bus disappeared as abruptly as it had arrived.

"Good afternoon, Harry", said Luna brightly as she walked through the gate. "It's such nice weather I thought I'd have a day out." She patted the heavy-looking rucksack she was carrying. "And I've brought a few books for you. I didn't think Hedwig could carry them all."

"How did you know where I live?" asked Harry in astonishment.

"Oh, Hermione gave me her and your address on the train," explained Luna breezily. "Although when I told her I'd be sending her regular snorkack updates from Sweden she looked as though she may have regretted giving me hers"

Harry couldn't help smiling. He turned to his still dazed relatives. "Dudley, Aunt Petunia, this is Luna Lovegood, a friend of mine from school. Luna, my cousin Dudley and aunt Petunia Dursley."

Petunia snapped out of her daze and smiled tentatively at Luna. "I'm sorry, Luna" she apologised, "your arrival was a bit sudden. How did that . . whatever it was, do that? Appear and disappear like that?" She stared back at the road, as if expecting the Knight Bus to reappear at any moment.

"That was the Knight Bus," explained Luna. "I don't know exactly how it works," she continued regretfully, "but it's an exciting ride. We nearly hit a flock of sheep on the way here and had to drive into a lake to avoid them. The people on the lower deck weren't too happy, though."

Harry shuddered, remembering his rollercoaster ride to London on the bus. "I assume it's got charms on it so that people who don't know about magic can't see it," he told his aunt. "It's not exactly inconspicuous."

"I don't want to disturb you, if you're busy," said Luna, noting the gardening tools scattered over the lawn.

"They've just finished," said Petunia. "Would you like a drink while they put the tools away?" On Luna's happy nod, Petunia led her into the house.

Harry shook his head. "Come on Dud, let's get this stuff away before Luna starts telling your mum about nargles."

"What are nargles?" asked Dudley, interestedly.

"I'm not sure," admitted Harry. "They might not even exist. Luna can be a bit . . . strange . . . sometimes."

"Well, you can't get much stranger than enormous buses appearing out of nowhere," said Dudley philosophically, as he pushed the lawnmower around the side of the house. "You haven't seen anything yet," Harry muttered to himself as he followed his cousin.

**OoOoO**

Surprisingly, Luna seemed to be getting on quite well with Petunia, so Harry and Dudley excused themselves to take quick showers. Getting back downstairs, Harry found Luna in the living room showing his aunt and cousin one of the books she'd brought with her.

". . . and in 1876 a wizard in Banff said he'd been attacked by three of them, leaving him with a broken leg, broken ribs and severe bruising. But there is some doubt about the accuracy of that sighting and on how he got the injuries. On the day he claimed to have seen them, several people came forward to say they'd seen him fall out of one his neighbour's first floor windows when her husband came home unexpectedly early from a business trip."

Harry sat down. "What's the book, Luna?" he asked.

"Bamboozling Beasts of the British Isles," said Luna. "It claims to be the authoritative guide to the unknown magical creatures of Britain."

"Claims to be?" queried Harry.

Luna looked slightly embarrassed. "The author isn't particularly objective, and you have to take some of the reports with a pinch of salt."

"Rather a large pinch," chipped in Aunt Petunia with a smile.

Luna smiled back. "True. For example, the author accepts without question the report of a wizard in Gloucester that he was attacked by a pack of giant spectral hounds that knocked him unconscious and left him in a ditch."

"I've read about spectral hounds," said Dudley eagerly, "That could be true, couldn't it?"

"Well, yes, it could" admitted Luna. "There are a lot of reliable sightings of ghostly hounds in Britain, by both wizards and muggles, going back hundreds of years. But in the Gloucester case, the ditch the wizard was found in was at the side of the 'Red Dragon', a large pub, and several dozen eyewitnesses reported that before the "attack" the wizard had been in the pub, had drunk six pints of beer and half a bottle of firewhisky and had staggered outside singing an obscene song about mermaids. A large splash was then heard, and when people went to investigate they found him in the ditch, and no sign of spectral hounds. He didn't say anything about the "attack" at the time and it was only when his friends got him home and his wife accused him of being drunk that he mentioned the hounds."

Dudley smiled ruefully. "OK, that does sound a bit dodgy, I agree."

"That's why I brought several books," explained Luna. "The more you read, the easier it gets to tell the difference between genuine sightings and the ramblings of drunks and nutters."

Harry raised an eyebrow and Luna blushed and busied herself rummaging in her rucksack. She pulled out three large volumes and handed them to Dudley. "Here you are," she said. "You've got 'British Big Cats: Fact, Fiction or Alcohol Abuse', 'Mysterious Magical Creatures of Northern Europe' and 'Stalking Death: The Definitive Guide to What Is (and What Might Be) Out There Waiting to Pounce'."

Dudley took the books eagerly.

"The first is quite sceptical," warned Luna, "the second is very factual and doesn't take an editorial view, and the third is a bit, well, sensational."

"Who writes these things?" asked Harry. He had always been puzzled by the vast number of volumes on sale in Flourish & Blotts and housed in the Hogwarts library, when the UK wizarding population was not, he thought, particularly large.

As she had on the Hogwarts Express, Luna seemed to know what Harry was thinking.

"You have to remember, Harry, that many wizards don't work as such. And even those that do tend to retire once they've earned enough to buy a house and give them a small income. Given our lifespans, that means that a lot of wizards have time on their hands and many of them spend it researching or writing."

Harry looked at the volumes that Luna had passed to Dudley. 'British Big Cats' was authored by Sholto Antrobus, 'Mysterious Magical Creatures' by Francois Pericord and 'Stalking Death' by . . .

"Xenophilius Lovegood?" said Harry, looking at Luna in surprise.

Luna blushed again. "Daddy had some spare time and compiled a lot of the reports we get at the Quibbler into a book. I'm afraid it's not as reliable as the others. It's based wholly on what people have reported seeing, but it's not as critical as the others. Antrobus is a sceptic and does his best to discredit things that don't match his view that there are no mysterious magical creatures left to discover in Britain. Pericord isn't as sceptical, but he's scrupulous in recording all of the evidence he can find on these creatures, both positive and negative. Daddy's book, though, has a lot of reports that the others don't mention because they consider them just too improbable. Most of them are, but there might always be a genuine one in there somewhere."

"These are great," enthused Dudley. "I've got quite a few books on mysterious creatures, but nothing as detailed as this. Thanks for lending them to me, Luna." He thought for a moment. "Harry wrote to you because we're going to a meeting tonight of a group that I'm a member of, that's interested in mystery big cats. Are you interested in coming? We can't talk about magic, of course" he said hastily, "but you could get an idea about what non-magical people think about strange creatures."

Luna blinked several times and looked at Dudley with a blank expression on her face.

"It's alright if you don't want to," said Dudley quickly, assuming that her lack of response indicated disinterest. "It'll probably be quite boring for you, when you know for a fact that there are all these weird things out there, and you've probably got better things to do anyway . . ." he trailed off.

"No, no," Luna broke in. "I was just surprised. No-one ever asks me anywhere usually. Are you sure you'd want me along?"

Harry winced at the suppressed emotion in Luna's voice. He knew that she hadn't made any friends at Hogwarts, even this year with the DA, and her reaction to Dudley's offer reminded him uncomfortably of his surprise at first meeting Ron that someone might actually want to spend time with him.

"The more the merrier," affirmed Dudley. "It's not a very big group, but they're nice people.

"Then yes, I'd love to come," she beamed. "Do I need to bring anything?"

"Well, we meet in a room above a pub in Guildford," said Dudley, "so a few quid for a drink and some snacks, if you like, but you don't need anything else."

"How are we getting there?" asked Harry.

"Dad usually gives me a lift," replied Dudley. He turned to Luna. "Are you staying with us for the rest of today? Dad won't mind giving us all a lift, if you are."

Luna was still smiling happily. "If it's not too much trouble. I told Daddy I might not be home until late, but he's working on the latest issue of the Quibbler so probably wouldn't have noticed anyway."

Petunia had been following the conversation. "It's no trouble at all, Luna," she said. "Stay for dinner, and then Vernon will take you all into Guildford."

That settled, Harry, Dudley and Luna withdrew to the back garden while Petunia set about preparing dinner and the three of them collapsed under the shade of a large apple tree. Dudley was delighted to have a mysterious creature expert on hand and Harry let his mind wander as Luna told Dudley about various magical creatures that might be mistaken for big cats. He saw Hedwig return from Luna's and fly into his bedroom and was on the point of dropping to sleep when he was suddenly dive- bombed by what looked like a grey shuttlecock. Sitting up abruptly to the sound of sniggering from Dudley and Luna he recognised Pig, Ron's hyperactive owl.

Harry grabbed the owl and unfastened the parchment attached to his leg before launching Pig towards his bedroom window, assuming that he'd quickly find the water and owl treats in there. Unrolling the parchment, he found that there were actually two letters, one from Ron and one from Ginny. He decided to start with Ron's.

_Harry,_

_Hope you got home OK, and the muggles are behaving themselves. Ginny and I can't get away on Wednesday. Mum says it's too dangerous to be away from the Burrow. We had to tell her about the summer school to explain why we wanted to be out for the day. She said it sounded like a Death Eater trap and is going to tell Dumbledore about it. Sorry – we tried to not say anything, but there was no way Mum was going to let us out without a definite reason._

_Were you serious on the train about going out with Daphne Greengrass? I thought you were winding me up, but Ginny says it was true. She's a Slytherin, Harry, you can't trust her. For all we know, her Dad might have been one of the Death Eaters at the Ministry last week. You need to steer clear of her, and don't tell her where you live so she can't sell you out to You-Know-Who. _

_Mum's going to ask Dumbledore to let you come to the Burrow for the summer. I know you've got nothing to do at the muggles' and since we aren't going to be studying we'll have all summer to play quidditch! I'll let you know what Dumbledore says._

_See you soon,_

_Ron_

Harry took several deep breaths to calm the annoyance he felt at Ron's letter. He hadn't expected Ron to be able to get away without mentioning the Dee Academy, but his comments about Daphne emphasised his narrow-mindedness when it came to Slytherins. He was also annoyed that Ron automatically assumed that because his Mum had forbidden him to attend summer school, Harry wouldn't attend either.

Harry looked up and saw Dudley and Luna watching him. Sighing he passed Ron's letter over to them, and turned his attention to Ginny's.

_Dear Harry,_

_Ron doesn't know I'm sending you this letter, but I intercepted Pig and added mine to his – I haven't read Ron's letter but can guess what it says: we can't go to summer school because it's an evil plot, Daphne Greengrass is evil and must be avoided at all costs, and Mum's going to persuade Dumbledore to rescue you from your evil relatives so you can spend the summer playing quidditch at the Burrow (which isn't evil in any way whatsoever). How did I do?_

_My brother is an idiot. _

_I'm sorry we mentioned the Dee Academy to Mum, but we thought that if she thought we were studying she might let us go. No such luck. I don't know whether you'll hear anything about it from Dumbledore or anyone in the Order, but like you said on the train, it's none of his business what you do over the summer._

_I don't know Daphne at all, but I do know the Slytherins in my year and most of them are fine – a bit stand-offish, but not Dark Lords in waiting. I don't like a few of them, true, but I also don't like most of the Ravenclaws, a couple of the Hufflepuffs and several of my own housemates. As far as I can see, the Slytherins are no different to the rest of us. OK, Malfoy's a git, but that doesn't mean that a quarter of all wizards in the UK are evil._

_While it would be good to have you spend the summer at the Burrow, I honestly think that you'd go mad. I've only been back two days and Mum's protectiveness is driving me mad. If she doesn't calm down soon, I'll end up hexing her before long. If your relatives are treating you OK this summer, and you end up going to summer school and seeing all your friends regularly, I think you'd be better off staying away (Mum would certainly never let you go off to the Dee Academy if you were staying here). I'm going to work on Dad over the next few days to try and get away for a while – if I do, perhaps we (and some of the others) can meet up. If we do, could I borrow your books and notes on whatever you decide to study. Even if I can't go to the Dee Academy myself, some of the courses in the brochure sounded really interesting._

_Take Care,_

_Ginny_

Harry smiled as he read Ginny's letter. She obviously disagreed with Ron and her Mum on the same things that Harry did. As much as he had enjoyed spending time with the Weasleys in previous years, he agreed with Ginny that staying with them this summer would not be a good idea. Molly Weasley seemed very unwilling to let her children grow up, and this attitude would inevitably include him if he was living with them. He passed Ginny's letter to Dudley and Luna and relaxed back against the tree as they read it.

"Your mate Ron doesn't seem too willing to go against his Mum," commented Dudley eventually. "And he seems very quick to criticise Daphne. Does he know her well?"

Harry snorted. "I doubt he's ever spoken to her. She's a Slytherin, that's enough in his mind."

Luna sighed. "He's not growing up very fast," she said sadly. "For all that he spends so much time with you and Hermione, he acts like a first year sometimes."

Harry gave Luna a sharp look. Her attitude to Ron during the year had led him to suspect a crush, and her tone now gave further support to that theory. Now that Luna had made her comment Harry couldn't help but agree. He sighed. "Ron's a good mate," he said, "but he's got a very 'black or white' view of the world, and he doesn't really think some things through until it's too late."

"How old is Ginny?" asked Dudley, still studying the letters. "I'd have said from reading these that she was older, but if she still has to do what her Mum tells her she can't be."

"She's a year younger than me," said Harry. "She's in the same year as Luna."

"Well, Ginny sounds alright," said Dudley. "And some people just take longer to grow up than others. Me, for starters."

"That's true," admitted Harry. Compared to where Dudley was a year ago, Ron was fine. He turned to Luna. "We'll have to work on him when we get back to Hogwarts. He'll get there."

Luna looked hopeful and Harry resolved to do his utmost to change Ron's attitude, although he thought that the quirky Ravenclaw might have a long wait.

**OoOoO**

Vernon had been surprised to find a witch at his dining table that evening, but dinner had been a congenial affair and afterwards Vernon had dropped the teens off outside a scruffy-looking pub near the centre of Guildford. Harry looked at the building curiously, his experience of pubs having been restricted, up until now, to the magical variety.

"The Hanged Man," said Luna, looking up at the rather gruesome pub sign, which showed a body swinging on a gibbet. "That's not a pleasant name for a pub."

Dudley shrugged. "It's an old pub. Apparently they used to hold public executions near here, and the pub takes its name from that. Come on, let's get some drinks and head upstairs." He ducked through the door and Harry and Luna followed, finding themselves in a gloomy bar.

"What do you want to drink?" asked Dudley. Harry glanced at Luna, who was staring at the beer pumps in fascination. "I'll have coke, please," Harry decided. It would make a nice change from pumpkin juice. "Luna?"

Luna dragged her attention away from the pumps and gave Harry a nervous look. "Do they serve gillywater?" she whispered.

"I doubt it," grinned Harry. He looked at the fridges behind the bar. "You can get coke, or lemonade, orange juice, pineapple juice, grapefruit juice, tonic water or ginger ale."

Luna looked conflicted. "I've never had any of those," she confessed. "What are they like?"

A barmaid had now appeared, and was watching them suspiciously, probably because she realised they weren't eighteen, thought Harry.

"Most people like coke," said Dudley, turning to the barmaid and ordering three pints. "If you don't like it, or if you want to try something different, you can get something different next time. "We're here for the meeting upstairs," he explained to the barmaid, who looked slightly mollified at his order.

Luna picked up one of the glasses of coke and took a tentative sip, before a look of delight spread over her face. "It's fizzy," she said, taking another sip. "And I've never tasted anything like that before."

"Just don't drink it too fast," warned Dudley, "or all that fizz'll have you belching like mad."

Dudley led the others through a door at the back of the bar and up a flight of stairs to a fair-sized meeting room on the first floor. They weren't the first arrivals – a tall blond man was studying posters on a notice board, and a young woman with her back to them was arranging chairs in a circle at the other end of the room.

The blond had turned at their entrance, and smiled when he saw Dudley. "New members?" he asked hopefully, looking at Harry and Luna.

"Possibly," hedged Dudley. "They're both interested in mystery animals and have just come along to see what sort of things we do."

"Hi," said the blond, shaking hands with both Harry and Luna. "I'm Pete Collins, Chairman of SABRE.

"Harry Potter," said Harry, "and this is my friend Luna Lovegood. I'm Dudley's cousin."

There was a crash from the other end of the room and the four of them turned to see that the young woman had dropped a chair and was looking at them in shock, shock which was mirrored on Harry's face, although Luna looked as serene as ever.

"The clumsy one is my girlfriend, Penny Clearwater," said Pete with a smile. "We're both students at the University and I've managed to bring her around to the idea that there are strange creatures lurking out there."

"Oh, I'm sure she didn't need much persuading," said Harry dryly, finding Penny's continued expression of shock quite amusing; he (and Luna) were clearly the last people she'd expected to meet in the function room of a Guildford pub.

Visibly pulling herself together, Penny crossed the room and shook hands with Harry and Luna. "It's nice to meet you," she said. "We're always looking for new members willing to stake out small shrubberies and copses in the hope of finding evidence that a family of big cats might be living undetected in one of the most populated parts of the UK."

Pete looked defensive as Harry and Dudley smiled at Penny's comment. "There are still some quite wild bits of countryside round here," he insisted. "Don't let Penny's scepticism get to you; it's not like we expect to find big cats in peoples' back gardens."

"Really?" said Penny, sounding surprised. "What about that children's playground in Godalming?"

"There were reliable sightings of large black cats in that playground," protested Pete.

"Which was in the middle of a housing estate, with no greenery whatsoever, that was surrounded by a wall that had a mural of a jungle scene painted on it, including large black cats" Penny pointed out. "And it was next door to a pub, and when you spoke to the police they said that the people reporting sightings sounded 'suspiciously slurred', and one of them kept bursting into giggles. But you still insisted that we staked out the playground every evening for a week."

"OK, so it was a long-shot," said Pete. "But it was still good practice for when we really got out into the field."

Penny raised an eyebrow. "The fact that the pub was holding a beer festival that week with discounts for anyone with an NUS card had nothing to do with it, then?"

Pete looked embarrassed. "Pure coincidence," he muttered.

Penny sniffed, and turned back to Harry's group. "It's a good job he's got me to keep him on track," she whispered loudly, "otherwise the only big cats we'd have a hope of seeing would be on pub TVs."

"So do you think there really are strange creatures living in the UK that most people know nothing about?" asked Luna innocently.

Harry coughed loudly while saying something that sounded suspiciously like "Nargles!".

Penny glared at him, obviously familiar with the dangers of mistletoe. "Yes, Luna," she replied, "I do think that there are more things out there than we know about. And if you join this group, we'll do our best to find some of them."

"Yes," said Pete eagerly. "I've got some good news on that front to tell everyone later." He looked around the room. "Although it doesn't look as if anyone else is going to turn up."

"Where is everyone?" asked Dudley. "There are usually about a dozen of us here," he explained in an aside to Harry.

"Most of the members are students," Penny explained. "Term's over, so they've all gone home for the summer. I'm still here because I live in Guildford anyway, and Pete has stayed because he's got a summer job here, with me. There might not be anyone else turning up, though."

"Don't write us off just yet, lass" came a voice from the doorway. Two men walked in, and Harry studied them curiously. Both appeared to be middle-aged, but looked fit and, in some indefinable way, dangerous, although Harry couldn't work out why.

The man who had spoken, dark-haired and wiry, walked over to the group and held out his hand to Harry. "Lan Blackstock," he said, "pleased to meet you."

Harry shook the offered hand. "Harry Potter, I'm Dudley's cousin." Blackstock's grip strengthened slightly at Harry's introduction, and his eyes seemed to twitch upwards towards Harry's forehead, although they refocused on his eyes almost immediately and Harry wondered if he'd imagined it – it certainly wasn't the type of lingering stare that his forehead, and scar, usually elicited on introduction to a wizard.

"Nice to meet you, Harry," said Blackstock pleasantly. He turned to Luna expectantly. "You too . . ."

"Luna, Luna Lovegood," she replied dreamily, shaking his hand, although Harry was beginning to recognise that this apparent lack of focus actually meant that Luna was thinking furiously.

Blackstock gave her a puzzled look, and quickly introduced his companion as Bob Williams to handshakes all round. Williams was a stocky blond and gave no indication that he recognised Harry's name.

Penny began to shepherd everyone towards the circle of chairs at the back of the room and, once they were all seated, Pete opened the meeting and welcomed the newcomers. He ran through a couple of recent sightings that he and Penny had investigated, and Blackstock and Williams chipped in with comments. Luna was listening avidly and Harry was impressed – there was no outright credulity here, just a genuine interest in getting to the bottom of sightings, genuine or not.

"Right, then," Pete said once the discussions had ended. "I know that we're a Surrey-based organisation, but I thought it would be good for us to get experience of investigating big cat sightings in a different environment. In recent years, the majority of credible big cat sightings in the UK have been in Scotland and in the southwest of England. As some of you may know, an uncle of mine owns a camping and caravan site in Cornwall, on the edge of Bodmin Moor. He's just had a school party cancel on him, and has rather a lot of vacancies in the middle of August. He's willing to rent caravans to us at a big discount. How do you all feel about spending a fortnight in Cornwall in August looking for the Beast of Bodmin?"

Pete's question was met with silence, before Blackstock finally said "I'm in."

"Me too," added Williams. "I've always fancied a crack at the Beast of Bodmin."

"Penny and I will be going too," said Pete. "I'll get in touch with the rest of the members this week to see if we can get anyone else interested. How about you, Dudley?" he asked.

Dudley shrugged. "I'll have to ask my parents," he admitted, "but I'd definitely like to go." He turned to Harry. "What do you think? It'll be sort of like an adventure holiday."

Harry was extremely tempted. He'd never actually been on a "proper" holiday before (as opposed to summer 'escapes' from the Dursleys). But he also knew that he was going to sign up for the Dee Academy's summer school and didn't want to take time away from that.

Dudley realised Harry's dilemma and turned to Pete. "Harry's signing up for a summer school," he told him, "and even if he can get a fortnight off he'll have homework and stuff."

"No problem," said Pete cheerily. "Penny and I have work to do ourselves, and we certainly don't want you to neglect your education. If you want to come, you can concentrate on work and just get involved with the tracking when you've got some free time."

"What about you, Luna?" asked Penny kindly. "Would your parents let you come away for a couple of weeks? We're thinking of putting people two or three to a caravan – do you have any friends who'd like to join you on a 'Beast of Bodmin' hunting holiday?"

Luna didn't answer immediately, and Harry quickly spoke up. "How many caravans are available for rent?" he asked. He had remembered Neville's comment about being bored at home, and suspected that several other of his friends would be in a similar situation. The Summer School might be a good distraction, but a holiday would be even better.

Pete raised an eyebrow. "Twenty five," he admitted. "Why?"

"I have a few friends who might be interested," Harry replied. "That is, if your uncle wouldn't mind a group of teenagers staying on the site."

"As long as he's getting money for the rentals he won't care about that," said Pete with a grin. "But although this will be a bit of a holiday, we're serious about looking for the Beast of Bodmin. Lan and Bob, and Penny and I, don't want to be responsible for chaperoning a group of kids who are there just to mess about. And that assumes that your friends' parents will let them come away with a group of strangers."

Harry shrugged. "We spend all year at boarding school, so we're pretty independent," he explained. "And the friends I'm thinking of wouldn't mess about like that. They'd probably have work from the same summer school I'm going to, but that aside I think they'd quite enjoy hunting the Beast."

Penny didn't look convinced, having no-doubt realised that anyone who Harry invited would be a witch or a wizard. Blackstock, though, had been carrying on a whispered conversation with Williams and now spoke up.

"If Harry can rustle up some friends, it would increase our chances of finding something significantly," he said. "The problem with a small group is that we can't be everywhere at once. If there are fifteen or twenty of us, though, we could cover a much larger area. I can get hold of a couple of dozen heavy-duty walkie-talkies for communication, so we would all be in constant communication with each other. Any sightings and we could all converge on the location."

Williams was nodding as Blackstock gave his explanation, and Pete was also looking very enthusiastic. "When will you know if you can get a group together," he asked Harry eagerly.

"I'm going to an open day on Wednesday for the summer school I'm going to sign up for," said Harry, "and I'll see most of my friends there. It will take them a day or two to get permission from parents, I should think, so I could let you know by Friday, if that's OK?"

"Brilliant," enthused Pete. He turned to Penny. "I'm starting to get a really good feeling about this trip."

Harry was wondering how he always managed to get himself involved in situations like this. What had begun as a low-key evening out with his cousin had managed to turn into him providing the troops for what, looking at the animated gesticulations of Blackstock and Williams, encouraged by Pete, was turning into a major, military-style hunting expedition.

He was also conscious of the fact that he had unwittingly hi-jacked Dudley's main outside interest and wondered exactly how this might affect their still-fledgling friendship. He turned to Dudley and began to apologise for his suggestion, but to his surprise Dudley had a smile on his face.

"It's not dull with you around, is it?" he asked rhetorically.

"No," said Harry ruefully. "I'm sorry about jumping in like that, though. I wasn't trying to upstage you, or hi-jack the meeting, or anything."

Dudley glanced over at where Luna was talking happily to Penny, and then looked at him shrewdly. "Luna doesn't have any friends at Hogwarts, does she? That's why you spoke up, before she had to admit to Penny that she didn't have any friends, isn't it?"

"Yes," admitted Harry. "Luna had a hard time when she started at Hogwarts and never really fitted in. But she's a good person. I've only started to get to know her this year, and things are going to be different next year. If I can get a group together for this holiday, hopefully she'll get used to being around people who aren't making fun of her all the time, and she'll be able to make some friends, in Cornwall and when we're back at Hogwarts."

Dudley nodded. "Sounds good to me. I'm not exactly well-off in the friends department myself, remember."

The two were joined by Penny and Luna, Penny rolling her eyes at her boyfriend's antics. He had produced a large-scale Ordnance Survey map from somewhere and he, Blackstock and Williams appeared to be discussing ambush sites.

"Are you not looking forward to stalking The Beast, Penny?" asked Harry innocently. "With a bit of luck, you'll have a whole army to command in August."

"Please tell me you won't bring any Weasleys," begged Penny. "I had enough trouble trying to keep Fred and George in line at school, I really don't want to think about the havoc they could cause let loose in the wild."

Harry laughed. "They're in the process of opening their own joke shop in Diagon Alley," he told her. "I think they'll have all on running that through August, especially once the Hogwarts letters go out and all the students invade the Alley."

"Thank Merlin," breathed Penny in relief. "So who have you got lined up for the expedition?"

Harry noticed that Dudley's jaw had dropped, and he realised that Dudley didn't know that Penny was a witch.

"It's alright, Dud," he said. "Penny went to Hogwarts, she was a few years above me and left two years ago." He glanced over at the three gathered round the map. Someone had produced a handful of small plastic soldiers and an argument seemed to have broken out about where to place them. "Do those three all know about magic?"

"Pete doesn't," said Penny. "I've been seeing him for a couple of years now, though, and I'll have to tell him soon. I'm not sure about the others."

"I think Blackstock recognised me," said Harry, although I couldn't swear to it."

"He's a squib," Luna interjected.

"A what?" asked Dudley.

"Someone from a magical family who isn't magical themselves," Harry explained. "How do you know?"

Luna looked embarrassed. "I can see auras," she admitted quietly.

Penny gasped, but Harry wasn't sure why.

"What does that mean?" asked Dudley, beating Harry to the question.

"It means that you all need to keep that fact very quiet," said Penny seriously.

At Harry and Dudley's confused looks, she continued. "From what I've read, it's a gift that varies from person to person." She looked at Luna. "Some aura-readers can just tell the difference between wizards and muggles, on the basis that wizards have auras and muggles don't. Other readers can discern more from an aura, like the difference between muggles and squibs. And some rare readers can apparently tell the power of a wizard from his aura."

Harry immediately understood Penny's warning. Some wizards would be very interested in knowing the power levels of other wizards.

Dudley was fascinated. "So how does Lan look compared to me?" he asked Luna. "There can't be much difference, if some readers can't tell a difference between muggles and squibs?"

"Everyone has an aura," said Luna. "I've probably read the same books as Penny, and from them it seems that different readers see auras in different ways. I have to concentrate to see them, and when I do it's like a person is surrounded by a glowing mist. Wizards' auras are a sort of turquoise colour, and they glow at different brightnesses, with a bright aura meaning a strong wizard and a dull aura a weaker wizard. Although it's not always that easy."

"Why not?" asked Harry curiously. "That seems quite straight-forward."

"Babies have auras, too," explained Luna. "And some of them are brighter than adult wizards. Some of the younger students at Hogwarts have brighter auras than some of the teachers. I think that the brightness must be a sign of potential, rather than actual power."

Penny was looking thoughtful. "That could well be true. And that's why you should really keep quiet about this. Imagine what someone like You-Know-Who would do with that ability. He could go around looking for all the powerful babies to kill them before they grew up to be a threat." She suddenly realised what she'd said and covered her mouth. "I'm sorry Harry, I was thinking out loud."

"That's alright," said Harry, whose thoughts had been following the same path. He looked at Luna seriously. "Penny's right, though. If people know you can see auras it could well make you a target for Voldemort."

"What about me," asked Dudley, after a moment of silence. "What does my aura look like?"

"The same as a wizard's," said Luna. "But it's very faint, as if you have magic, but only a very small amount."

"That makes sense," said Penny. "But how is that different to squibs? I would have thought that they'd look the same."

"Some do," admitted Luna. "Mr Filch's aura is like that. But some others, like Mr Blackstock's, are as bright as a wizard's but sort of interrupted. The aura isn't uniform, there are gaps."

The four of them considered Luna's explanation. "So you can't necessarily distinguish between a muggle and a squib," said Harry slowly. "If a squib has the faint aura, you couldn't. But if someone has an interrupted aura, that's a sign that they are a squib." He thought some more. "Does the difference mean anything else?"

Penny shrugged. "I would say it had to. But Luna's description of auras isn't like anything I've read about, so who knows? You'd need to find more readers, do some comparative research and perhaps trace the family lines of the squibs, looking for similarities and differences, to try and find an explanation."

"Well," Harry told Luna, "at least you've got a subject that you can write a book on at some point, when the time comes for you to settle down to do some research."

Luna looked slightly more cheerful at this thought, and absent-mindedly wandered over to the map table, which had now sprouted several small cat figurines, apparently acting as stand-ins for The Beast.

Harry shook his head as Luna began to argue with the plotters over the placement of a small battalion of Beast hunters, and turned back to Penny.

"So what are you studying at University?" he asked with interest. Luna's comments on the Express had got him thinking about further education post-Hogwarts. "How did you manage to get in, without studying non-magical subjects?"

"The Wizarding Education Authority will issue you with muggle exam results, GCSEs and 'A' levels, as long as the subject you want to study doesn't require prior knowledge," explained Penny. "I'm studying Law, which has no set entry requirements other than a good 'general' education, so the WEA provided me with muggle qualifications based on my OWLs and NEWTs. Easy."

Mention of Law reminded Harry of his conversation on Platform 9¾ with the Greengrasses.

"Are there many solicitors in the wizarding world?" he asked.

"Quite a few," said Penny. "Not many wizards go to muggle university, though, so a lot of them tend to be squibs with a completely muggle education. And most firms work in both worlds. Why? Do you need a lawyer?"

"Maybe," Harry hedged. "I want to find out about a house my grandparents might have owned and its contents. My girlfriend's mum said it would have been entailed, and that my grandparents' will would be held somewhere giving details of what should have happened to it."

Penny looked interested. "Well, my dad's a solicitor," she said. "He has an office here in Guildford, which is where Pete and I are working this summer, and one in one of the alleys off Diagon in London."

"Which one?" asked Harry. "I'm going up to London tomorrow, would I be able to get an appointment to see him at short notice?"

"Yes, just call in," she said. "I'll call him later to let him know you'll be dropping in. If you pop in as soon as you get up to London he'll either see you then, or tell you what time to call back."

"Great," said Harry. "Whereabouts is the office?"

Penny looked slightly embarrassed. "Bear in mind we didn't name the street," she warned. "It's about a hundred yards past Gringotts on the left, a street called League Alley. The firm's just called Clearwaters and it's the first building on the right."

"League Alley?" said Harry in disbelief.

"I know, I know," said Penny. "Diagon and all the streets off it were renamed in the mid nineteenth century, and I have no idea how the person responsible managed to get the names through. The saddest thing is that most wizards don't actually realise that there's anything strange about it."

Hermione's comments about wizards, logic and common sense flashed through Harry's mind, and he silently agreed once more with her assessment.

At the sound of raised voices, Harry and the others turned back to the map table. From the scattered soldier figures it appeared that the Beasts, under the direction of Luna, had turned the tables on the hunters, and this was not a scenario that had gone down well.

"You have to plan for every eventuality," warned Luna. "If you corner a wild animal it will fight."

"The lass's right," admitted Williams. "We can't afford to take any chances when it comes to safety." He nodded at Luna. "We won't be taking risks with you and your friends' lives. Lan and I will work out detailed safety guidance ready for August."

Penny clapped her hands. "Right, that's about all we've got time for tonight. Same time in a fortnight, everyone."

Pete approached Harry. "You'll let me know about numbers by Friday? Dudley's got my phone number."

"I will," Harry confirmed, when a thought struck him. "You said these caravans are available at a discount. What sort of price will we be paying your uncle?"

"He's desperate," said Pete. "He'll take £100 per week per caravan, and they're all technically six-berths. That's a bit cramped if you're spending all day in them, but if not, and you don't mind sharing with five others, that'll be under £35 each for the fortnight. If you want more space, you can pay more."

"OK," said Harry. I'll do some recruiting on Wednesday and let you know."

The group tidied up the room and headed downstairs. Pete and Penny were on foot, staying in student accommodation over the summer which was less than a mile away. Blackstock and Williams shook hands with the three teens and drove off in an old Landrover. Harry could see Uncle Vernon's car parked just down the road.

"How are you getting home, Luna?" asked Dudley.

Luna smiled, pulled out her wand and stuck it into the road. There was an immediate flash of light, a huge bang, and the Knight Bus appeared at speed. It went into a skid and slid sideways down the road, coming to a stop only yards from the plate-glass window of a kebab shop.

"Are you sure that's, well, safe?" asked Dudley dubiously as the door opened and a young wizard fell into the gutter and was noisily sick.

"Oh yes," said Luna airily. "As long as you remember to shield yourself from the occasional projectile vomiting, you're fine."

"What about the lake you drove into on the way?" asked Harry.

Luna shrugged. "I was upstairs, but the beds float, I think."

The young wizard had picked himself up and marched round to the front of the bus and was now shaking his fist at the driver through the windscreen. "I warned you, Prang," he yelled. "When you drove off that cliff, I warned you what I'd do to you the next time! You've got a brake pedal, why don't you bloody use it?"

Luna was now onboard, and the doors creaked closed. The engine roared, and with a scream the young wizard dived to one side as the bus hurtled forward and disappeared with another huge bang.

"Come on Dud," said Harry, as Uncle Vernon pulled up beside them, keeping a wary eye on the young wizard who was now standing in the middle of the road screaming imprecations at the now-vanished bus. "She'll be fine."

Dudley's face broke into a huge grin as he climbed into the car after Harry. "I reckon this is going to be a pretty good summer!"


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4, in which London is visited and there are interesting encounters**

_Tuesday 18 June 1996_

Harry was up early again on the morning after the SABRE meeting, and was browsing though his fifth-year Charms textbook over a mug of tea when Dudley finally made an appearance, yawning widely.

As Dudley was rummaging through the fridge looking for breakfast ingredients a large barn owl swooped in through the open kitchen window and landed in front of Harry, holding out its leg to which a small envelope was attached.

Harry absently untied the letter while Dudley tossed a strip of bacon to the owl, which snatched it expertly out of the air with a click of its beak.

"Anything exciting?" asked Dudley, busy pouring milk on a bowl of cornflakes.

"It's from Penny's Dad," said Harry, reading the letter. "He says that he's free for half an hour from 10:00 if we can get to League Alley by then."

Dudley looked at his watch. "Should be OK. Dad'll give us a lift to the station and we'll catch the 8:05, we'll be at Charing Cross at just after half past. Where do we go then?"

"The Leaky Cauldron's on Charing Cross Road," explained Harry. "I assume that's near to the station?"

"Five minute walk," mumbled Dudley through a mouthful of cornflakes, "but it's a long road, it runs all the way up to Oxford Street. How far up it is the pub?"

Harry had to admit that he didn't know. The only time he'd arrived by non-magical means was when Hagrid had taken him to buy his school supplies before he'd even started at Hogwarts, and as that was also his first (and only) trip to non-magical London he'd been too awed at the sheer scale of the city to pay much attention to directions. He'd just followed Hagrid.

"I'll know it when I see it," Harry said somewhat sheepishly, hoping that he would indeed be able to find the pub from the muggle side.

**OoOoO**

Harry needn't have worried. The train to London was on time and he and Dudley were skirting Trafalgar Square by quarter to nine, Harry craning his neck to see Nelson atop his column, which he didn't remember seeing on his first visit to the capital. He and Dudley had then only walked around a hundred yards up Charing Cross Road, keeping their eyes peeled for the Leaky Cauldron, before Harry spotted it sandwiched uncomfortably between a second-hand bookshop and a record shop. He nudged Dudley and gestured at the pub. "There it is. Told you I'd be able to find it."

Dudley's eyes lost focus for a second, before he blinked suddenly and stared at the frontage. "Weird!" was his only comment.

"What?" asked Harry curiously, alternating glances between Dudley and the pub.

"My eyes sort of skipped over it," explained Dudley. "I saw it, but it was like my brain didn't want to recognise it, then it suddenly snapped into focus."

It hadn't occurred to Harry that Dudley might not have been able to see the pub; after all, he and aunt Petunia had both had no trouble with the Knight Bus.

"Must be some kind of notice-me-not charm," said Harry. Since we're right in the middle of London it's probably a really strong one, too, to deter anyone who's not magical."

"So how come I can see it?" asked Dudley. "How does that charm work?"

Once again Harry had to admit to ignorance, never having considered exactly how the wizarding world protected itself. "It can't be based on whether you're magical or not," Harry mused, or you wouldn't be able to see it now. "It must somehow recognise whether a person _knows_ about magic or not, but I've no idea how it could do that."

The cousins crossed the road and Harry pushed open the door, leading the way from the bright sunshine outside into the pub's gloomy interior. The windows didn't seem to have been cleaned since Harry's last visit three years earlier. He motioned Dudley towards the rear of the pub, nodding to Tom behind the bar (who also didn't seem to have changed in the previous three years), before coming to an abrupt halt.

Dudley stumbled into Harry's back. "What's up?" he queried.

Harry nodded toward a booth on the far wall and its single occupant staring sadly into a bowl of what could have been porridge, although in the gloom it was hard to tell. "That's Professor Lupin," he whispered.

"Your Dad's mate, the werewolf?" said Dudley with interest. "He doesn't look like I'd expect a werewolf to look. Are you going to talk to him?"

"I don't know if he'll want to talk to me," said Harry sadly. His trip to the Ministry had been one of the stories he'd told his relatives on the evening of his return from Hogwarts. "I got his best friend killed, remember?"

Dudley snorted. "Based on what you told us I really don't think he'll blame you for that. Come on."

Before Harry could stop him, Dudley dodged round him and strode over to Remus's booth and slid in opposite him. Harry quickly followed. Remus hadn't spotted him yet and just looked faintly bewildered at the gatecrashing of his breakfast by a complete stranger.

"Morning Mr Lupin," said Dudley brightly to the confused-looking werewolf.

"Morning Professor Lupin," echoed Harry nervously as he slid into the booth beside his cousin. "I don't know if you've met my cousin Dudley?"

"Harry!" exclaimed Remus in shock. "What are you doing here?"

"Shopping, visiting the bank, the usual," said Harry with a shrug, not meeting Remus's eye. "I have an appointment in League Alley at ten."

He heard a sigh from beside him. "Harry's nervous because he thinks you blame him for getting his godfather killed," said Dudley bluntly.

A silence fell across the table. Harry kept his eyes on Remus's porridge, a chill falling over him as waited for Remus's response.

"Harry," said Remus gently, "what happened at the Ministry was not your fault. If there is any blame to apportion, a good amount of it should fall on me."

"You?" blurted Harry, finally meeting Remus's pained gaze in shock. "How are you to blame?"

"I knew how badly Sirius resented being trapped in that house," said Remus quietly. I knew that he was becoming more and more eager to get out, to play a part, and that his attitude would lead to recklessness if he did. But I didn't stop him coming with us to the Ministry. If I'd insisted he stayed behind, he would have done. He'd have hated it, but he'd have stayed. But I didn't. And he died. I'm sorry, Harry."

Harry stared at Remus in disbelief. He had been worrying that Remus would hold him responsible for Sirius's death and yet it appeared that Remus thought that Harry would think the same of him.

"Professor . . . Remus," began Harry. "I charged into a trap with my friends without thinking it through properly. I should have realised it was a trap. I could have contacted Sirius. He gave me my Dad's old mirror at Christmas, but I didn't even open it. I put you all in danger, and Sirius paid the price. It was my fault."

"Harry, you're a fifteen-year-old boy, and were lured into a trap by Voldemort," said Remus. We never told you what we thought Voldemort was after in the Ministry. If you'd known that, you'd have been more wary. Sirius wanted to tell you, and I talked him out of it. I told him you were better off not knowing, you were safe at Hogwarts, and there was no need to worry you." He took a deep breath. "I knew that he'd given you James's old mirror. I didn't want him to put you, or himself, at risk if anyone found out that you were in contact and I didn't want him to tell you what the Order were up to. I made him give me his mirror and hid it in the basement at Grimmauld Place. You couldn't have contacted him with the mirror."

Remus looked up. To Harry's horror he saw that Remus's eyes were swimming with tears. "There was no-one you could have contacted. Albus and Minerva were both unavailable, and you tried to floo Sirius, and Kreacher told you he wasn't there. You did what you thought was right, based on the information you had. We all let you down by not giving you the information you needed, and I let you and Sirius both down. It's all my fault. I know you can never forgive me, and that no apology can make up for it."

Remus stood and made as if to leave.

"Remus, sit down," said Harry desperately. "If it wasn't my fault then it certainly wasn't yours. I don't blame you for anything. I can hardly blame you for taking Sirius's mirror away from him because you didn't want him to get into trouble when that's the same reason that I didn't realise that he'd given me my Dad's mirror. As far as I'm concerned there's nothing to forgive. But if you think there is, well, I forgive you."

Harry could see astonishment warring with denial in Remus's eyes as he collapsed back into his seat.

"Harry, I don't deserve your forgiveness," protested Remus brokenly.

"You don't need my forgiveness," replied Harry, "but even if you did, you'd have it. It was not your fault."

Remus closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, fighting for composure, before relaxing and turning his gaze back on Harry.

"Thank you," he said sincerely, before hesitating slightly. "I'm not sure what other people may have said to you as you've been growing up, but you know that I was one of your father's best friends, and I considered your mother to be a good friend too. All I can say is that they would both be extremely proud of you, and of the person you're becoming. And for what it's worth, so am I. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

A feeling of great warmth flowed through Harry. There had been virtually no positive reinforcement in his upbringing, and apart from comments on similarities in appearance people tended to shy away from talking about his parents. To hear Remus, one of their best friends, say that they would be proud of him and that he was too, filled him with a fierce joy.

"Thank you, too" he told Remus. "That means a lot to me."

Harry turned to Dudley, who had been looking rather uncomfortable at the outpouring of emotion. "Sorry about the mushy stuff," he apologised.

"But thank you for bringing Harry over here," Remus broke in. "We obviously needed to clear the air, and I'm not sure that I'd have been able to bring myself to approach Harry," he said apologetically, "misguided as that may have been. Strong emotions should not be bottled up and allowed to fester. In the long run, they can cause many more problems than might arise from a more immediate emotional outburst."

"Tell me about it," said Dudley, exchanging a wry smile with Harry.

"Long story," said Harry to a confused Remus. "But you're right." At a nod from Dudley he briefly summarised his aunt's explanation of a few days earlier.

"Well, I'm pleased that the two of you are getting along now," said Remus at the conclusion of Harry's tale. Ascertaining that this was to be Dudley's first visit to Diagon Alley, he asked: "Do you have any questions before we go through?"

"Not about the Alley, as such," said Dudley. "But you're a teacher, right?"

Remus gave an encouraging nod.

"Well this might be a silly question," said Dudley hesitantly, "but how does magic actually work? I mean, what is it?"

"That's a very good question Dudley," said Remus. "It's a question that wizards down the centuries have pondered, often to no great effect. What makes a wizard a wizard, rather than a muggle? What makes him magical and, by association then, what is magic?"

"And?" said Harry when Remus paused. He thought it was a good question too. Surrounded by magic as he had been for the past five years he had never really given any thought to what magic actually was, but had just accepted that it existed."

"Well," said Remus, "what have you learned about the nature of magic at Hogwarts?"

"Nothing," admitted Harry. "Unless Professor Binns has mentioned it, in which case I would have slept through it."

Remus chuckled. "No, Binns won't have mentioned it. It's not a subject that is much mentioned; at least, it wasn't when I was at Hogwarts. There are plenty of books on it, though. But they tend to contradict each other. The simple fact is that we don't know what magic is."

"But you must," protested Dudley. "If you don't know what it is, then how do you know how to use it, or to make new spells and stuff?"

"Ah, we understand how it works," replied Remus. "Or at least, we partially understand. And we know how to use it. But we don't know what it is or where it comes from." He stopped and thought for a moment. "Actually that's not entirely true either. We do know where to find magic. But if we lost it, we wouldn't know how to get it back."

Harry was confused and so, by the looks of him, was Dudley.

Remus chuckled again, seeing their confusion. "I'm sorry, I'm not explaining this very well." He looked at Dudley. "Magic is all around us. There is ambient magic in virtually every part of the world. And for wizards, magic is inside us. We all have a store of magical energy within our bodies. This internal energy is difficult to use, but our wands act as a focus, allowing us to control the energy. The bigger our store of internal magic, the more powerful the wizard, at least potentially, although that brings us to the first major mystery of magic."

Remus paused to take a sip of tea before continuing.

"The first mystery is on the source of a wizard's magic. A wizard might perform a major act of sorcery and completely exhaust his supply of magical energy. Over time, which varies depending on the wizard, that supply is replenished. Where does the replacement magic come from? Is it internally generated, or is it absorbed from the environment. In other words, 'what makes a wizard a wizard?' An ability to generate magic internally, or an ability to absorb magic from his surroundings?"

"Is there no way to test which is the right answer?" asked Dudley. "Measure if the ambient magic is decreasing while the wizard is recharging, say?"

Remus smiled. "Very good, Dudley. And wizards have indeed been trying to do that for centuries. There was a famous experiment carried out in the late nineteenth century by a team of German wizards. They went to a well known "null zone" in northern Africa, a place where there is no ambient magic, and one of them cast spells until he was magically exhausted. They wanted to see if his internal magic, his core, would recharge."

"Did it?" asked Harry, fascinated.

"No," said Remus. "And at first this was claimed to be proof that magic was absorbed from the environment."

"Well, wasn't it?" asked a puzzled Dudley.

"Not necessarily," explained Remus. "A rival French team claimed that it could just as easily mean that magic was internally generated, but that the null zone prevented the operation of whatever bodily function was responsible for that generation."

"And no-one's ever been able to prove it one way or the other?" said Harry.

"No," confirmed Remus. "The ICW actually banned research on the subject for a couple of decades at the turn of century."

"They banned research? Why?" asked Harry in surprise.

"Well," said Remus wryly, "It might have something to do with the twelve-man running duel that broke at ICW headquarters between the French and German teams after their presentations on the null-zone experiment. The top three stories of the building were destroyed and about a hundred wizards and witches ended up in hospital, although there were thankfully no fatalities. I think they explained it away to the muggles as an airship crash."

Harry shook his head. "All that over a difference of opinion on a cutting-edge topic?"

"The head of the French delegation did make some rather rude comments about the sister of the head of the German delegation," admitted Remus. "And there were some rumours that the head of the German delegation had once been implicated in the mysterious death and subsequent necromantic resurrection of the head of the French delegation's favourite pet nogtail. So there was probably already some bad blood there."

Harry risked a glance at Dudley and saw that he was trying as hard as Harry to keep a straight face.

Fortunately, Remus continued with his explanation. "The problem is that ambient magic fluctuates significantly and no wizard has ever been able to create a measuring implement that could correct for the fluctuating background magic sufficiently to ascertain if any was being absorbed by an exhausted wizard. And equally, despite some very dark attempts over the years, no wizard has ever been able to establish a physical difference between wizards and muggles. There's no extra organ or feature in a wizard's body that isn't present in a muggle that could be identified as a magic-generating organ."

Remus looked at his watch and rose to his feet. "Come on you two, if you want to get to League Alley by ten."

"Wait a minute," said Dudley. "You said that was the first major mystery of magic. What are the others?"

Remus grinned. "Buy me lunch later, and I might be persuaded to continue," he said, walking towards to the entrance to Diagon Alley.

Harry followed the still-protesting Dudley, marvelling at the change in Remus in such a short time. Harry's forgiveness, which he still thought was unneeded, had lifted a cloud from the werewolf and he had been obviously cheered further by having a fascinated audience at whom to lecture. Remus was a born teacher and Harry cursed Snape for forcing his departure from Hogwarts and a job he so clearly enjoyed.

Remus and Dudley had paused at the wall hiding the Alley entrance, waiting for Harry to catch up. "Just watch this, Dud," said Harry with a large smile on his face. "Even though you know about magic, this is going to blow you away."

Dudley looked dubiously at the wall, but his expression soon turned to shock as Remus tapped the bricks and the gateway to the Alley formed in front of them. Dudley stepped through and stared in amazement at the Alley running away from them, its multitude of shops, hundreds of shoppers and the gleaming bulk of Gringotts looming over the Alley in the distance."

"It's not possible," said Dudley, dazed. There's another street, St Martin's Lane, that runs parallel with Charing Cross Road, and there's loads of streets between them. You just can't fit all of this in!"

"Magic, Dudley. Magic!" said Harry happily, as the three of them wandered down the Alley.

**OoOoO**

"So what's your plan for the day, Harry?" asked Remus as the trio passed Gringotts.

"I need to go to the bank after I speak to a solicitor," replied Harry. Then we're just shopping, really, here and in muggle London."

"Well, if you want to hear more about magical theory," said Remus, looking at Dudley, I'll meet up with you at lunchtime, if you'd like?"

"OK," smiled Harry. "Where will you be?"

"There's a café just opposite Gringotts. I'll be in there from about 11:30 if you want to come and find me." Remus drew to a halt. "This is League Alley" he said, pointing at the small street on their left. "You're not in any trouble are you, needing to see a solicitor?" he concluded anxiously.

"No, no," Harry assured him. "I just want to try and find out about my grandparents' will. They apparently had a house somewhere and I wondered what had happened to it."

"Ah, Charlus and Dorea," said Remus thoughtfully. "Yes, they had a house somewhere near the British Museum, on Russell Square I think."

"Did you never go there to see my dad?" asked Harry, somewhat puzzled that Remus didn't seem to know exactly where his dad had lived.

Remus looked embarrassed. "According to James, there were some rather specialised wards on the house," he admitted, "including one that targeted dark creatures. At the time, you must remember that the fact that I was a werewolf was a big secret. The only people who knew about it, apart from James, Sirius and Peter, were my parents, Albus and Madam Renfrew, who was the Hogwarts healer when I was at school. Visiting James at home would have meant letting Charlus and Dorea in on the secret and I refused to do that."

Harry nodded in understanding. "But you think the house will still be there?"

"I assume so," said Remus. "I don't remember James saying anything about selling it. I seem to remember it had been in the family for generations, so he might not have been able to sell it in any event, even if he'd wanted to. Many of the older families arrange their affairs so that it's difficult to dispose of property outside the family, and the Potters are an old family."

Harry nodded again. That tied in with what the Greengrasses had told him about entailed property.

"Well, let's see if we can find out if I own a house," Harry said brightly. "We'll see you later," he told Remus, and he and Dudley headed into League Alley.

**OoOoO**

Clearwaters was as easy to find as Penny had said, and after announcing themselves to the receptionist it was only a few minutes before they were shown through to a large office.

A tall, balding man rose from behind a cluttered desk. "Mr Potter," he exclaimed cheerfully, leaning forward and shaking Harry's hand. "And Mr Dursley, I presume?" he continued, shaking hands with Dudley, who nodded affirmatively. "Please, take a seat. I'm Balthazar Clearwater. I understand from Penny that you have a query about a will?"

"Yes, sir," said Harry. "A couple of people now have told me that my grandparents, Charlus and Dorea Potter, had a house in London. I wondered what had happened to it, and my girlfriend's mum suggested that I see a solicitor to see if my grandparents had a will and if it said what happened to the house? I didn't know anything about it until recently; I'd thought that everything of my family's had been destroyed at Godric's Hollow."

"Understandable," said Clearwater, "and as it happens I can indeed help you there. My own grandfather was a friend of yours, and this firm dealt with legal matters, including making wills, for both your grandparents and parents."

"My mum and dad had a will as well?" asked Harry eagerly. "What did it say?"

Clearwater opened one of the folders in front of him. "This is your father's will," he explained, as Harry and Dudley leaned forward to read. "As you can see, it's very simple. Everything he had was left to his wife for her life, with the balance then being divided equally between his children."

"Children?" said Harry. "As in more than one?"

"If you look at the date," explained Clearwater," it was signed around a month after your parents were married. It's a fairly standard, basic will where the testator doesn't have a great deal of money or responsibilities. In the ordinary course of events, your father would have made a new will after you were born, and would have revised it on the birth of any subsequent children. He would also have probably made a new will when Charlus and Dorea died. But those were dangerous times, and he didn't."

"So what does this mean?" asked Harry.

"To understand things fully, you need to see two other documents," said Clearwater. "Your grandfather's will, and the Potter Trust." He pulled two more folders towards himself, and passed the first one to Harry. "What do you know about trust law?"

"Absolutely nothing," said Harry.

Clearwater laughed. "Hardly surprising," he admitted. "Basically, a trust is a mechanism by which a person, the settlor of the trust, can provide for his or her dependants, or descendents, or anyone, really. An amount of money, or property, is set aside and a trust deed is drawn up which sets out who the beneficiaries of the trust are, and how the trustees of the trust can use the trust funds for the benefit of the beneficiaries. The Potter Trust was settled by your great-great-great grandfather Ambrosius Potter in 1810."

"So who are the beneficiaries?" asked Harry.

"There are several classes of beneficiary," said Clearwater. "The primary beneficiaries are the direct-line male descendents of Ambrosius Potter, in strict order of primogeniture. Order of birth," he explained, seeing the confused looks on both Harry's and Dudley's faces. "That means that the main beneficiary of the trust was Ambrosius Potter's eldest son, then his eldest son, and so on. If is no eldest son, then you go back in the direct line until you find a younger son and then trace his line forward in the same way. After that, well, it gets a bit complicated. But we don't need to consider that since you are, in fact, the primary beneficiary at the moment." He tapped a sheet of paper poking out from underneath the trust deed and, pulling it out, Harry saw a family tree detailing his descent from Ambrosius Potter, eldest son to eldest son all the way. It was a smaller tree than the Black tree that he had seen on a tapestry at Grimmauld Place but there were still a lot of names on it, including several familiar surnames.

"Could I keep this?" asked Harry.

"These folders are all copies," said Clearwater, "so yes, you can take them all away with you."

Dudley was still looking at the trust deed. "So if Harry's the beneficiary, who are the trustees? And how come he's never met them?"

"Good question," said Clearwater. "There are currently three trustees. I am one, and the other two are people who were friends of your grandfather, Algernon Trescothick and Wilhelmina Amblethwaite. You haven't met us because you haven't asked to meet us." He held up a hand as Harry began to speak. "I know what you're going to say, Mr Potter. You didn't know that the trust, or we, existed, so how could you ask to speak to us, right?"

At Harry's nod, Clearwater sighed. "I am afraid I am guilty of putting too much faith in Albus Dumbledore, Mr Potter."

"Dumbledore?" said Harry furiously. "He knew about this and didn't tell me about it?"

"After your parents died, I approached Albus Dumbledore," explained Clearwater. "He told me that you were living in the muggle world with relatives and did not need anything from the trust at that point. And he was correct," said Clearwater, anticipating Harry's protest. "As we'll see in a moment, there is very little money in the trust at the moment, only property. Your grandparents' London house, the Godric's Hollow property, an apartment in Paris and a villa in Spain. They could not be sold, and were of no use to an infant beneficiary. They do, though, contain a number of personal items, heirlooms if you will. Books, jewellery, magical paraphernalia and the like. Again, these were of no use to you as an infant. But that would change as you grew up, in particular when you began to attend Hogwarts. Albus assured me that, at that point, he would tell you of the trust and that if you wished to visit the properties and remove any of the contents he, and you, would contact the trustees."

"He's never said a word about a trust, or properties," said Harry angrily.

"Clearly not," agreed Clearwater. "And I will be speaking most severely to him as a result. I will also ensure that in future I do not take his, or anyone else's word, on issues like this. To be honest, were it anyone other than Albus I would not have taken their word anyway. I am afraid that I was swayed by his reputation and can only apologise, on my own behalf and on behalf of the other trustees, for our failings."

Harry took a deep breath. "Thank you, Mr Clearwater," he said. "You're not the only one disappointed in Dumbledore at the moment."

Clearwater nodded in thanks at Harry's acceptance of his apology. "Back to the wills, then," he continued, handing the final folder to Harry. This is your grandfather's will. He and your grandmother died of a virulent strain of dragon pox in early 1981, about six months after you were born. You'll see that it is very similar in form to that of your father's. As your father was his only son there was little need for a complicated will. He left a number of small bequests to various friends, with the remainder to your grandmother for her life, and then to your father. Your grandmother's will was very similar. In essence this meant that the contents of their vaults were added to your father's vault, which I understand is now yours."

Harry nodded. "And the personal stuff in the houses, that would have transferred to dad too, and so that's mine as well, now."

"Correct," confirmed Clearwater. "So although the trust properties are not technically yours, the contents are, and you may do with those what you will. The properties are currently heavily warded. The trust has never really earned any income and the trustees authorised the use of most of the trust's liquid assets to pay for that warding, knowing that it would be years, if not decades, before the properties would be used again. That's the main reason why there is so little cash currently in the trust."

"So what happens with the trust?" he asked curiously. "Can it be wound up?"

"It can," said Clearwater cautiously, "but not easily. Would you want to wind it up?"

Harry thought about it. The property was undoubtedly valuable, but he had plenty in his vault to see him through Hogwarts and beyond. And these were family properties, in which generations of Potters had lived. He might be the last Potter at the moment, but that might change. He wasn't planning on settling down and starting a family quite yet, but he liked the idea of having children and grandchildren one day.

"Can the trustees stop me from living in the properties, or sell them without my consent?" asked Harry.

Clearwater smiled. "To be honest, Mr Potter, that's probably a topic best addressed at a separate meeting. I can see that I've given you a lot to think about and it would probably be best to leave it here for today. Take away the trust deed and have a read; it sets out all of the powers of the trustees, and should answer some of your questions. Then get back in touch with me in a week or two and I'll set up a meeting for you to meet the other trustees."

Harry considered this, and had to admit that this sounded reasonable. He had been given a lot of information, and taking time to consider it and perhaps discuss things with his aunt and uncle would certainly help him to process things. He marvelled at the thought that he was actually considering asking his aunt and uncle for advice, something that only a few days ago would have been incomprehensible.

"That's fine," he told Clearwater. "There is just one thing, though. I'm happy to wait a while to see the properties and their contents, but it's been suggested to me that my grandfather owned a pensieve. If he did, that's one item that I'd like to get hold of as soon as possible. Do you know if there was a pensieve in any of the properties?"

Clearwater walked over to a filing cabinet and pulled out another file. At Harry's questioning look, he said: "When your grandparents died and the trustees decided to effectively 'mothball' the properties they arranged for an inventory of their contents." He opened the file and began to flick through the papers inside.

"Ah, here we are," he said. "I remember visiting your grandfather soon after I became one of the trustees, not long before he died, and he showed me around the house. I was especially curious about the pensieve, as I'd never seen one, and he pointed to it out to me on our tour, although I never saw it in use. The description here is "A large stone bowl inscribed with runes on a matching pedestal." The person carrying out the inventory either didn't know, or wasn't sure, that it was a pensieve, but that sounds about right to me."

Harry agreed. The description certainly fitted Dumbledore's pensieve, albeit without the pedestal. "So is it still in the house?" he asked.

"It is," confirmed Clearwater. "I can arrange for it to be retrieved and delivered to your current address, if you like. I'll have to speak to the warders to arrange access, but I can do that this afternoon."

"That would be great," said Harry. "Could you deliver it to 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey?"

Clearwater made a note of the address, and Harry and Dudley rose to leave.

"Thanks again for seeing us at short notice," said Harry.

"No problem," replied Clearwater, showing them back to reception. "And let me know when you've had a chance to look at the trust documents and I'll set up a meeting with the trustees."

"OK," said Dudley when they were back on the street. "Where to now?"

Harry looked at his watch. "That took a bit longer than I expected, but I think we've got time for a trip to Gringotts before we meet Remus for lunch. Let's go and introduce you to a goblin!"

**OoOoO**

Heading back up Diagon Alley, the cousins were soon at Gringotts. Harry paused at the entrance to let Dudley read the warning plaque, then led him inside. Harry hadn't visited the bank since immediately before his third year, but nothing seemed to have changed. Goblins hurried around on errands of their own, and lines of wizards and witches snaked across the foyer, queuing for teller services.

Harry smiled as Dudley stared around in fascination at his first sight of a sentient, non-human species, his reaction eerily similar to Harry's own first visit to the bank.

A goblin approached. "How may Gringotts help you this morning?"

"I'd like to visit my vault," replied Harry, producing his key.

The goblin snatched it from his hand, subjected it to close scrutiny and snapped its figures. Another goblin approached.

"Tarbrand! Please escort Mr Potter and his companion to his vault," snapped the first goblin, handing the key back to Harry before hurrying off to confront another new entrant to the bank.

"This way, sirs," invited the goblin identified as Tarbrand, and Harry and Dudley were soon seated in a cart at the entrance to the bank's tunnel system.

"What happens now?" whispered Dudley, as the goblin climbed into the front of the cart.

"Hold on tight," advised Harry, as the cart sprang forward and descended at breakneck speed into the tunnel system.

Several minutes later the cart slowed to a halt outside Harry's vault. Dudley, who had spent the first fifteen seconds of the trip screaming and the remaining time whimpering, staggered out and dropped to his knees.

"Do you not like roller coasters, Dud?" asked Harry innocently, springing out of the cart and approaching the vault door.

"Not any more," came the faint reply.

While Dudley recovered, Harry quickly entered the vault and filled a small sack with galleons. He decided that 2,000 galleons should be sufficient to cover any loans that his friends asked for, and was relieved that the sack he had found by the door appeared to have some kind of weightless charm on it; he doubted if he'd be able to carry two thousand galleons otherwise. He picked up a second sack and counted out another 1,000 galleons into it, enough, he thought, to cover his planned purchases for the day.

By the time Harry exited his vault Dudley had recovered his composure and was staring around the tunnel and cavern system with amazement.

"I can't believe all of these tunnels are even here!" he exclaimed. "Do you have any trouble with the Underground?" he asked Tarbrand.

"We are far deeper than the muggles' underground train system," the goblin replied with a sharp-toothed grin. "They do not suspect that our system is here."

Harry climbed back into the cart, followed by a nervous Dudley. "Could we go a bit slower on the way back?" he asked tentatively.

A grunt was his only answer, but the ride back to the surface was indeed far more sedate, to Dudley's obvious relief. It did take much longer, but gave Harry and Dudley plenty of time to stare in awe at the vast tunnel system.

**OoOoO**

"Right," said Harry as he and Dudley emerged from Gringotts. "Lunch, then shopping, do you think?"

"Sounds good to me," affirmed Dudley as Remus, spotting them from across the road, stood up from the café in which he'd been waiting, tucking a thick book into a satchel as he did so.

"Where's a good place to eat, not the Leaky Cauldron?" Harry asked Remus as he joined them.

"Well, there's a new place opened up just round the corner from the Weasleys' new shop," came the reply. "It's a pub, the Wizard's Staff, we could try there if you like?"

Receiving affirming nods, Remus led Harry and Dudley to the pub. It's outside was freshly painted, as was the large signboard above the door showing an old wizard, who bore a remarkable resemblance to Albus Dumbledore, clutching a large staff.

Dudley was studying the sign. "Is it me," he asked Harry, "or is that staff a bit, well, phallic?"

Harry, who had only glanced at the sign, took a closer look, as did Remus. Well defined veins ran down the length of the staff, and the shape of the top of the staff was certainly suggestive. So was the wizard's grip on it and the expression on his face.

"I can't believe I didn't notice that" said Remus, with a delighted grin on his face. "I wonder if Albus has seen it?"

Harry couldn't help but smile at the thought of Dumbledore's reaction, although knowing him he would actually find it as amusing as Remus. Shaking his head he walked into the pub, to find a far more welcoming, and airier, atmosphere than in the Leaky Cauldron. On his right, a polished bar ran the length of the pub. On the opposite wall to his left, sofas and chairs were grouped around low tables. And higher, dining tables were evenly spaced down the centre of the room.

Remus and Dudley, still chuckling softly over the pub sign, joined Harry and they looked round appreciatively. There were a couple of dozen patrons scattered around the pub, and the aroma from the dining tables was reminding Harry that it was a long time since breakfast. The three of them picked a table and Harry and Dudley perused the menu while Remus went to the bar for drinks. Then, after ordering food, Dudley looked at Remus expectantly.

Remus grinned. "More magical theory?"

"If you don't mind," replied Dudley. "You explained how no-one knew where a wizard's magic came from, but you said that magic was all around us. So where does that magic come from?"

"That's the second major mystery of magic," said Remus. "Magic is indeed all around us and we can detect and, to a degree, measure the strength of that magic. But where does it come from?"

"Does it have to come from somewhere?" asked Harry. "I would have thought that magic was a natural force, like gravity. Can't it just exist?"

"That's a view that many have held over the years," said Remus. "But ultimately, everything comes from somewhere. Even gravity. There might not be gravity wells, for example, scattered around the world that 'cause' gravity, but gravity arises because of the mass of the earth. In other words, gravity is something that we can explain by reference to something else – mass. Scientists can demonstrate how gravity works, and predict its strength based on, for example, the size of the planet. We can't do that with magic. Its strength fluctuates from place to place. Some parts of the world have much stronger ambient magic than others. Some, the 'null zones' I mentioned this morning, don't have any. We have no idea why."

"So magic might be a force generated by all objects," said Harry, and the bigger the object, like a planet, the more the magic?"

"Maybe. Maybe not," shrugged Remus. "Some wizards believe that there is a huge pool of magic at the centre of the earth, and that this magic circulates around the earth by way of ley lines. They think that the amount of magic is finite, and that it we destroy it somehow, that would be it. No more wizards and witches."

"Ley lines?" queries Dudley. "I've read about them. They're meant to link sites of power around the world."

"Yes, the muggles know about ley lines, in a general sense," admitted Remus. Wizards can sense the lines, and feel the magic, with a bit of practice. Those muggles that can detect them, by dowsing and the like, are probably demonstrating very small traces of magic. It might be more accurate to describe those muggles as a kind of squib."

"So there's magic flowing all around us, and we can just tap into it? How do we do that? I thought you said that a wizard's magic was internally generated?" asked Harry.

"Ley lines are very dangerous" warned Remus. "They carry far more magic than you have in your body. Many wizards think that they are the source of most ambient magic, since in many cases the ambient magic is stronger the closer you get to a line. The theory is that the magic bleeds off of the line and into the environment."

"So how can you use the lines," asked Dudley, fascinated.

"With great difficulty, and great care," said Remus. "No wizard has ever been able to directly tap the magic in a ley line. But buildings can be constructed close to, or even on the lines, and the wards surrounding such buildings are among the strongest known. What do you know about wards?"

"Not a lot," admitted Harry, thinking back to Luna's explanation on the Hogwarts Express. "Are they based on ancient runes?"

"Runes, certainly," confirmed Remus. "But they don't have to be ancient. A rune is simply a symbol that holds and directs magic. In combination, runes can act like a wide-area spell. But wide-area spells need a lot of power to maintain. So to create a ward, runes are carved into runestones, stones which are able to store magical energy, and these are charged either by a wizard or, more commonly, by drawing in ambient magic. The more ambient magic, the faster they charge, the stronger they are and the harder they are to bring down."

"So like a force-field round your house," said Dudley. "Cool!"

"Indeed," said Remus, smiling again at Dudley's enthusiasm. "So you build your house next to a strong ley line, and it will power your wards and make it very difficult for anyone to destroy them. It's no coincidence that Hogwarts sits on the convergence of three major ley lines, or that two major lines cross right in the middle of Diagon Alley."

Harry was again regretting his choice of subjects back in his third year. Instead of Divination, which he thought completely useless, and even Care of Magical Creatures, which he couldn't see being of much use unless he wanted to work with magical beasts long-term, he could have taken Ancient Runes and Arithmancy and been learning how to create force-fields.

"That's it," he decided. "Whatever my OWL results, I'm dropping Divination and Care of Magical Creatures and starting to study Runes and Arithmancy."

Remus nodded. "They're both fascinating subjects. And to be honest, a lot more useful than Care of Magical Creatures, unless you want to be a dragon-keeper like Charlie Weasley. And I honestly don't know why Divination is still on the curriculum at Hogwarts. You're either a prophet or not, it's not something you can learn. All of the other 'skills' you learn in divination" (and Harry could hear the inverted commas around that word) "are nothing more than parlour tricks."

Harry, of course, knew why Divination was still taught; Dumbledore needed to keep an eye on Trelawney. But Remus was right and his decision to take the subject had been a poor one.

"I'll get a bit of a taster this summer," Harry told Remus. "I'm signing up for a summer school tomorrow and Warding is one of the subjects on offer. I'm also going to have a go at Spellcrafting. And Mind Arts, he continued in a softer voice. I'm not going to let Riddle plant any more false visions in my head."

"Summer school?" said Remus, surprised. "Albus hasn't mentioned anything about Hogwarts organising a summer school."

Harry shrugged. "As far as I know, Hogwarts isn't. It's at the Dee Academy in Wales."

Remus was now looking at Harry with some concern. "Has Albus approved this?"

Harry narrowed his eyes. " It's got nothing to do with him. How I spend my summer is my business."

"Harry, Albus just wants to keep you safe, and your aunt's house is the best place for that. I'm surprised he let you come up to London to be honest, even with the Order watching you."

Harry took a deep breath, trying to kerb his annoyance. He was pretty sure that Remus was genuinely concerned about his safety, as opposed to Dumbledore, whose motives were still something of a mystery.

"It's not for Professor Dumbledore to say what I can and cannot do when I'm not at school," said Harry firmly. As for the Order, I've seen how effective they are. Remember the dementors last summer? Dudley and I do."

Dudley paled and nodded. "So who's watching you?" he asked Harry curiously.

"I haven't seen anyone," admitted Harry. "I didn't know that anyone was watching me, and to be honest I'm not too happy about it." He turned to Remus. "So who's watching me today?" He glanced around the pub. "Is it someone in here?"

Remus was looking at Harry aghast. "When I saw you come into the Leaky Cauldron I thought that Albus had approved your trip to the Alley," he said. "I assumed that you were being followed by a couple of Order members. Are you saying that Albus doesn't know you're here?"

"Not as far as I know," said Harry cheerfully. "And if I'm not being followed by the Order, it doesn't suggest that their tracking skills are up to much."

"Harry, Albus knows what's best for you," said Remus desperately. "We've got to get you back to your Aunt's."

Harry's internal anger rose again. "Albus Dumbledore has no idea what's best for me," he hissed at Remus. "I doubt he has any idea what's best for anyone, at least not as an individual. He's playing some huge chess game, and we're the pieces. But I for one don't actually think he knows what he's doing. Do you know why he's been so keen to keep me safe over the years?"

Remus was gaping at Harry's obvious anger towards Dumbledore. "He was a friend of your parents. And you're a symbol of the resistance to Voldemort."

"Wrong," said Harry coldly. He looked around the pub and cast a quick _muffliato_ around the table. "Remember the prophecy that the Order wasted so much time guarding? "_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. And the Dark Lord shall mark him as his equal, but he shall have power the Dark Lord knows not. And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, born as the seventh month dies._""

Remus appeared dumbstruck, but as Harry recited the prophecy his eyes narrowed in concentration. He pulled a parchment and quill from his satchel and quickly wrote down the prophecy, passing the parchment to Harry for him to verify.

Spying a waitress approaching with their food Harry dispelled the muffling charm, and Remus quickly turned over the parchment until the waitress had left.

"Give me a few minutes" said Remus, distractedly picking at his food with a fork while studying the parchment.

Harry's good humour returned. Remus's concern over Harry's safety, then immediate distraction when presented with a new problem and new information was so similar to what Hermione's reaction would be in the same situation that he couldn't help but wonder if there was a distant relationship there.

Eventually Remus's expression cleared and he looked up at Harry, who was again reminded forcefully of Hermione as he saw a fierce intelligence burning in Remus's eyes.

"Is this definitely the prophecy we've been guarding all year? The full prophecy?" asked Remus intently.

"Yes," said Harry. "Well, unless Dumbledore has lied to me about it. The original prophecy ball was smashed in the Department of Mysteries, but it was originally made to Dumbledore, and he showed me his memory of it in his pensieve when we got back to Hogwarts that night."

Remus shook his head. "On top of everything else that happened that day, that wasn't the right time to tell you that," he said sadly. "I presume that this was the reason that James and Lily, and the Longbottoms, went into hiding?"

"Yes," admitted Harry. "Although I don't know if Dumbledore actually told them the prophecy."

"No," said Remus, "I suspect that he just told them that he had information that Voldemort would be coming after them. If they'd known that you were actually the target I don't think that they'd have even stayed in the country. However much they wanted to stand up to Voldemort, your safety would have come first. They'd have taken you and gone to ground somewhere well away from Britain."

A silence fell as Harry imagined again what it would have been like to grow up with his parents.

Remus coughed, breaking the moment of introspection, and continued. "I can see why Dumbledore wanted this kept secret after it was made. He obviously wanted you to grow up so you'd be in a position to defeat Voldemort. But that doesn't explain why he's kept it secret since it was fulfilled."

"Because he doesn't think it's been fulfilled yet," Harry told him.

Remus exhaled heavily. "I hoped you weren't going to say that," he said resignedly. "Prophecies are notoriously difficult to interpret until after the event. But while it's true that this prophecy could be referring to your eventual defeat of Voldemort at some point in the future it seems, to me at least, a lot more likely that it refers to your vanquishing him on Halloween 1981. Once that happened, there was no point in keeping it secret. If it did refer to that event, it's fulfilled. But even if it didn't, keeping it secret served no useful purpose. Voldemort would be determined to kill you because of what you did to him as baby whether he knew the prophecy or not."

"Hermione will be pleased to hear that you agree with her," grinned Harry. "And I think she actually reasoned it out a bit quicker than you, too."

Remus smiled ruefully and burned the parchment on which he'd written the prophecy to a crisp with a quick _incendio_.

"I can see why you're not overly enamoured of Albus at the moment," he admitted to Harry. "But however misguided his decisions might have been, I really don't think that he had anything other than the best of intentions."

"Maybe not," said Harry. "But like I said, I don't think that he sees me, or anyone really, as people. We're just pieces on a board, and he won't accept that anyone but him can move us around. And he won't share information unless forced, doesn't seem to really trust anyone, and doesn't accept any criticism or that he can be wrong about anything. Why didn't he tell you the prophecy? As far as I can tell, no-one knew it but him. Why were you all prepared to risk your lives over it without knowing what it said? In fact, why does the Order follow him at all? As far as I can see you don't really do anything pro-active, you're all just happy to do exactly what he tells you, no questions asked."

Remus sighed again. "It's very difficult to explain to someone who didn't live through the events of the late 1970s," he said. "Voldemort was the bogeyman of the wizarding world, a figure of sheer terror, supported by what seemed like an army of invincible masked wizards, the Death Eaters. He created a world where people were afraid to leave their homes, to speak to strangers, or to trust anyone, because anyone could be a Death Eater. And he did it all from the shadows. He was hardly ever seen, or at least few people who saw him lived to tell. And the same was true of the Death Eaters. All that most people knew was that, with increasing frequency, families would die. The aurors would turn up, find the bodies and a Dark Mark, and that was all."

"Why didn't people fight back?" asked Dudley. "Surely some of these attacks must have failed?"

"Not really," admitted Remus. "They were well targeted, and we suspected that the Death Eaters attacked in numbers. On two rare occasions where the aurors arrived before the Death Eaters left, it seemed as though an attack on a family, that is where there were two adults at home, would be carried out by at least twelve Death Eaters, plus maybe Voldemort himself. No Death Eater was ever captured or killed, or if they were their bodies weren't left behind."

"So there were no battles between the Death Eaters and the aurors?" said Harry, surprised. "No major attacks on Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade?"

"Nothing like that," confirmed Remus. "Voldemort and the Death Eaters were anonymous terrorists, they didn't do anything publicly. Probably because that presented real risks. A lucky shot might take him, or a Death Eater, down, or enable one of them to be captured. What Voldemort was doing was taking out all of his possible opponents, which meant all powerful wizards and witches who refused to follow him, one by one."

"Surely it must have been obvious who the Death Eaters were," Harry protested. "Any powerful wizard with the same views as Voldemort must have been suspect."

"Oh, they were," said Remus. "But where's the proof? Having extreme views isn't an arrestable offence unless you act on them, and there was no evidence that any of the 'suspects' did. It was only once Voldemort fell, and the Death Eaters started to act rashly without a leader, that the aurors started to catch them. Before then, all anyone knew was that everyone was at risk from a gang of masked terrorists."

"And they didn't catch all of them," said Harry bitterly. "People like Lucius Malfoy got away scot-free."

"They did," agreed Remus sympathetically. "But that's because they, and Voldemort, were very clever about how they organised themselves."

"What do you mean?" asked Dudley curiously.

"Whether or not it was deliberate I don't know," explained Remus," but the Death Eaters were organised in the same way as muggle terrorists. It came out at the trials that they were organised into cells of four, with only the leader of the cell knowing the identities of the others. We think that only Voldemort himself knew the identities of the cell leaders. Whenever the members of a cell got together, or whenever they were out on raids or at meetings with other cells, they all wore their masks and used voice-distortion charms."

"So when the aurors started catching them, there was no way that they could betray their fellow Death Eaters," said Harry, impressed despite himself. "That's actually very clever."

"Yes, it was," agreed Remus. "Most of the Death Eaters caught didn't know the names of any others, and although they might have suspected, you can't put someone on trial where the only evidence against them is the suspicion of an admitted terrorist. The aurors raided a lot of homes looking for evidence, and did sometimes find it, but if they didn't, there was nothing else they could do."

"What about the Dark Mark?" asked Harry. "Surely they could check for that?"

"As I understand it, the Mark has some kind of subconscious compulsion charm built into it, preventing the wearer from talking about it," replied Remus. "Even Severus couldn't overcome that. I understand that Albus only found out about it several years after you vanquished Voldemort when Madam Pomfrey spotted Severus's Mark when he was in the infirmary, incapacitated after a potions accident."

"But the aurors can check for it now they know about it, can't they?" said Harry, confused.

Remus grimaced. "Albus has not seen fit to tell anyone outside of the Order about the Mark."

Harry was dumbfounded. Here was a sure-fire way of identifying Death Eaters, and Dumbledore wouldn't use it. "Why not?" he asked.

"Two reasons, from what he's told the Order. He's afraid that if word got out about it, Voldemort would stop marking his followers. And he's also afraid that it would encourage vigilantes to attack suspected Death Eaters looking for the Mark."

Harry couldn't see the problem. A person either had the Mark or they didn't. If they didn't there was no risk from vigilantism, if they did, well, as far as he was concerned they deserved everything they got. He said as much to Remus, who was nodding resignedly.

"The same argument has been put to Albus several times," he admitted.

"But they're all wrong and he's right, because he's Albus Dumbledore," said Harry in disgust.

"There is some force in his argument that Voldemort would stop marking his followers if word of the Mark got out," protested Remus, although his protest lacked conviction.

"There's only force in the argument if Dumbledore's taking advantage of the knowledge," argued Harry. "How many raids on suspected Death Eaters has the Order organised in the last year? How many have been captured and checked for the Mark?"

Remus nodded sadly. "None and none," he admitted.

"Just out of curiosity," said Harry, on a roll, "just what has the Order been doing for the past year? Apart from guarding the prophecy, that is?"

"Hagrid spoke to the European giants," said Remus. "And we've all been gathering as much information as we can on possible Death Eaters and their targets."

"That's it?" said Harry incredulously. "Gathering information?"

Remus bowed his head, and didn't reply.

"What do you and the other Order members think about that?" asked Harry. "I know I said last year that I wanted to join the Order, but that was on the basis that I thought you were doing something useful. Why do you all bother?"

Harry watched Remus carefully, seeing that he was sorting through his thoughts.

"The Order membership is split into two groups," Remus finally said. "Those that were members during Voldemort's first rise, and those that have come to it since Voldemort returned. The older members remember what it was like the first time round, the fear, the paranoia, the sense that the Ministry was incapable of dealing with the threat of Voldemort. Dumbledore offered hope to them, and they tend to see him as infallible, the greatest wizard in the world, the only wizard Voldemort ever feared and so will do whatever he says without argument. The "He's Albus Dumbledore, he must be right" brigade, if you like."

Harry grimaced, recognising Molly Weasley in that comment.

"The newer members, though, are getting frustrated," Remus admitted. "Kingsley Shacklebolt, Hestia Jones, Tonks. They all think we should be a lot more pro-active. Sirius thought so, too."

"And what's Dumbledore's answer?" asked Harry, sceptically.

"There isn't one," admitted Remus. "He simply says that he understands our frustration but that now is not the time to act. For the moment, we must simply gather information and bide our time. No matter how many times we ask, there's no answer about why it's not the time to act, or when it will be."

""Our" frustration?" said Harry with a grin. "No matter how many times "we" ask? Have you joined the rebel camp, Remus?"

Remus sighed. "I'm only involved with the Order because one of its functions is, supposedly, to keep you safe," he eventually said quietly. "If it weren't for you, I would have left Britain years ago. Neither Voldemort nor the Ministry have any love for werewolves, and there's nothing else for me here. James and Lily have gone, Peter's gone, Sirius . . . Well, you get the picture."

Harry was stunned. The naked emotion in Remus's eyes and voice conveyed the truth of his words. Any remaining worries that Remus might want nothing to do with him after Sirius's death had now been put to rest. Although Remus's comment did beg a few questions.

"If I was so important to you," Harry said hesitantly, "why did I not meet you until my third year? And why after that didn't you make any attempt to stay in touch?"

Remus's head remained bowed. "After that Halloween, when you went to live with your aunt and uncle, both Dumbledore and the Ministry warned me not to approach you. Dumbledore because he wanted you to grow up completely outside the magical world, and the Ministry because I'm a werewolf. I thought you'd be growing up happy and listened to Dumbledore there. Then, after I did finally see you again, we found out that Sirius was innocent. You were the one bright spot in Sirius's life these last two years, and I didn't want to encroach on that. He was your godfather, after all."

Harry cleared his throat, fighting back the tears that threatened to overcome him at Remus's desolate confession.

"Remus," he began, "that wasn't a criticism, it was just something I'd wondered about occasionally over the last couple of years. It would have been nice to have you around while I was growing up, but I can see why you weren't. I don't blame you, or hold that against you. And as for Sirius, well," Harry trailed off. "I don't think Sirius would have minded you encroaching, but I can see why you did it."

Harry could see quite a few other things as well. He had spent long enough without friends that he could recognise in Remus's behaviour, both now and earlier in the Leaky Cauldron, the resignation at the inability to make friends, the acceptance that he would never have any friends and, ultimately, the decision to stop trying to make friends because it would only lead to disappointment. He took a deep breath.

"I'm nearly 16 now," Harry told Remus. "I don't need a father figure, or a godfather. But I don't really have anyone in the magical world I can go to for more general advice, or who I can talk things over with. I'd understand if you wanted to go abroad; like you say, there's not much else for you here. But if you do decide to stay, I could do with a, well, a mentor I suppose."

Remus lifted his head and looked at Harry hopefully. "I think I can manage that," he said slowly. "I'll certainly try. I'm rather good at listening."

Dudley nudged Harry. "There you go. Remus will know what's best to do about you getting your girlfriend pregnant."

Harry saw Remus's jaw drop, and knew that he was blushing furiously. "Daphne is not pregnant," he hissed at both Dudley and Remus. "I only asked her out three days ago!"

Dudley was now snickering at Harry's expression and Remus, once he realised that Dudley was winding Harry up, began to laugh too. "You have to work on schooling your reactions Harry," he advised. Comments like that only have an effect if you react to them."

"Occlumency here I come" muttered Harry, as the three of them rose and headed out of the pub. He had barely stepped onto the street when a small figure, surprised at his sudden emergence, ran straight into him and went sprawling.

Harry saw that his collider was a young girl with long blond hair, and quickly stepped forward. "Are you alright?" he asked, holding out a hand.

"Fine, thank you," came the reply as she took the offered hand and pulled herself to her feet. "I apologise for running into you; I wasn't expecting you to step in front of me like that."

"No harm done," said Harry easily. He couldn't see that anyone else was interested in the collision, but the girl looked too young to be on her own in the Alley. "Are your parents around?" he asked.

The girl blushed faintly. "My mother is in Madam Malkins' shop," she said guiltily. "I sneaked out because I wanted to see the new joke shop and my mother said that she wouldn't take me there."

"Weasleys Wizard Wheezes?" Harry asked, and the girl nodded. "You shouldn't really be running around the alley on your own, so we'll escort you back to your mum. But we're going to the joke shop ourselves, so I'm afraid that means you'll have to come in with us for a few minutes. Is that OK?"

The girl's broad smile was answer enough.

Harry gestured at Dudley and Remus. "Sorry, we haven't introduced ourselves. I'm Harry Potter and this is my cousin Dudley Dursley and our friend Remus Lupin."

The girl's gaze went straight to Harry's forehead. She looked startled and took a step back before taking a deep breath. "I'm Vega Malfoy" she said nervously. "I've heard my brother talking about you."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Would your brother be Draco, by any chance?"

Vega nodded, and blurted out "It's OK if you don't want to take me to the joke shop, honestly, I can go on my own."

Harry realised that Vega was assuming that he wouldn't want anything to do with her now that he'd found out that she was a Malfoy. He had to admit that, on past experience, anything and anyone connected to the Malfoy name was probably best avoided. On the other hand, the girl was no more than eleven and, until he had introduced himself, had seemed pleasantly 'normal'. She certainly hadn't been displaying the objectionable attitude that he remembered from the eleven year old Draco. He mentally shrugged; he had decided back at Hogwarts to make more friends and to judge people on their own merits, uncoloured by their backgrounds.

He smiled reassuringly at Vega. "Draco and I don't exactly get along," he admitted. "But that doesn't mean that you and I will be sworn enemies."

"It most certainly doesn't," interjected Remus, also smiling at Vega. "Come along Miss Malfoy, the sooner we pay our clandestine visit to the Weasleys, the more likely we are to be able to return you to your mother before she realises you're missing."

Vega's rather incredulous expression had faded back to a smile as Harry and Remus had been speaking, and she now happily tugged on Harry's arm and began to lead him down the street. "It's down here, I think," she said as they rounded a corner onto another side alley.

Harry looked up at the street sign. It had been painted over with luminous orange paint, however, on top of which had been inscribed "Hysterick Alley".

"I'm guessing that isn't really the street name," said Harry to Remus, dryly.

"No," replied Remus with a smile. "It's still actually Diagon; that sign just said which numbers were down here. I assume that the twins have been doing a spot of creative advertising."

Vega had now pulled away from Harry and was staring an apparent awe at the merchandise displayed in the shop window. The shop itself was painted a lurid purple and the windows were dotted with posters in eye-watering colours advertising the delights that could be found within.

Dudley was eyeing the shop warily, obviously remembering his last encounter with the twins.

"Don't look so worried, Dud" said Harry cheerfully, remembering his cousin's 'pregnancy' jibe. "Anything they do to you in there will be reversible, eventually."

Dudley looked less than reassured, but allowed Harry to drag him into the shop, followed closely by Remus and Vega. On entering Harry looked around, stunned. Every product that he could remember the twins ever testing on their (often unwitting) housemates seemed to be here, as well as many more that he had never heard of. Skiving snackboxes were piled next to 'animated acromantulas' ("turns from a cuddly toy to a ravenous beast at the touch of a wand"). Joke sweets, which promised to turn the unfortunate eater into a variety of animate and inanimate objects, were followed by a section devoted to sneezing powder.

Dudley was following Harry down the aisle. "Sneezing powder?" he questioned. "You can buy that in ordinary joke shops. It's only like pepper, really."

A figure loomed up behind the cousins and clapped hands on their shoulders, peering between them. "Ah, my innocent young friends," said Fred Weasley. "Muggle sneezing powder just makes you sneeze. Where's the fun in that? This sneezing powder will actually propel you through the air with the force of your chosen powder. Observe."

Fred took a pinch of powder from a jar labelled "gale force" and inhaled it like snuff. "Wait for it . . . . ah . . . . ah . . . . ah-chooooo!" he sneezed. The force of the sneeze lifted him off his feet and blew him around twenty feet back down the aisle into a large pile of what looked like pillows.

Vega, who had also followed Harry down the aisle, clapped in delight as Fred leapt to his feet with a scream and ran towards them. Harry realised that several of the pillows had grown legs and teeth and were chasing him down the aisle. The scream, he thought, was a result of the one which had attached itself to Fred's groin.

Remus had his wand out and cast a swift "impedimenta" at Fred's nether regions. The biting pillow dropped to the floor and Fred let out a sigh of relief. In the meantime, obviously attracted by the commotion, Fred's twin George had appeared and was similarly stunning the pillows that had been chasing Fred. The two of them scooped them up and returned them to the pile, which Harry now realised was surrounded by a low enclosure clearly designed as a pen.

"What on earth are they?" asked Dudley in shock.

"Carnivorous cushions," explained George. "They can't actually eat you," he added, seeing Dudley's jaw drop, "they'll just give you a bit of a nip if you handle them roughly. They don't like being sat on and we thought it would be funny when their victims have to explain why they've got teeth marks on their arses!"

Remus coughed reprovingly and looked at Vega, who the twins had apparently overlooked. "Ahem," coughed Fred. "What my brother meant to say was that a bite on the bum can be quite embarrassing."

"Brilliant," said Vega, looking back at the cushions.

"We try," preened George at Vega's admiration. "My brother and I are, of course, the proprietors of this fine establishment, George and Fred Weasley, at your service." The twins stepped forward and each shook one of Vega's hands. "You're clearly a discerning customer," Fred continued, "how may we help you this fine day?"

"How much are the cushions?" asked Vega.

Harry coughed, and said "Fred, George, this is Vega Malfoy."

There was a moment of silence. "Malfoy, you say," said Fred shrewdly, casting a glance at Harry, who gave a brief nod. "Draco's sister?"

"Yes," said Vega, her happy expression beginning to fade. "I'm sorry if you don't get along with my brother. I just wanted to have a look round your shop. One of my friends came in last week and told me about it, and it sounded really good." She turned as if to leave.

"Not so fast, Miss Malfoy," said George. "You aren't your brother. We have a rather irritating brother ourselves. It would be rather hypocritical of us to blame you for things your brother may, or may not, have done."

"Indeed," said Fred. "And as for the cushions, well." He walked over to the pen, gently lifted two of them out and dropped them into a bag that he pulled out of his robe. The bag immediately shrank to the size of a small purse, which he handed to Vega.

"We won't charge you for these, as long as you carry out a field test for us."

"What kind of a field test?" asked Vega suspiciously.

"Feedback as to how they behave in a real-life pranking situation," Fred explained. "You might, for example, leave them innocently lying on a sofa back at Malfoy Manor. Should someone accidentally sit on one of them . . ."

"Cough . Draco . Cough", spluttered George.

". . . then we would be interested in hearing a report of the incident. How surprised was the 'victim', how long did the biting last, where was the 'victim' bitten, etc," Fred concluded. "Photos would be good, too."

A rather evil grin came over Vega's face. "OK, I can do that," she quickly agreed.

"Excellent," said George. The shrinking charm on the bag will wear off in two hours if it hasn't been removed by then. Happy Pranking!"

"So what else have you two got lurking about in here?" asked Remus. In short order the twins were giving their four customers a lightning tour of the shop. Harry marvelled again at the twins' ingenuity and the sheer variety of material they had managed to produce.

Reaching the front of the shop, Harry's attention was captured by two cages containing small, brightly-coloured, creatures of some sort.

"Pigmy puffs," explained Fred, noticing Harry's distraction. "They're miniature puffskeins."

Remus was examining the creatures in fascination. "I've never heard of them," he said. "Where did you get them? Are they this colour naturally, or have you been experimenting on them?"

"We bought two puffskeins from the Magical Menagerie earlier in the year," said George. "We were experimenting with temporary colour change potions for our 'rainbow delight' sweets and these seemed ideal. Unfortunately, they managed to get out of their cage one night and we found them in a dish of shrinking solution, with all sorts of other ingredients scattered around, too. Whatever they accidentally ate or drank, the shrinking and colour changes seem to be permanent."

"A few weeks later," Fred continued, "we discovered that eating and drinking wasn't all they'd done. We came down one morning and there were half a dozen babies. They've had two more litters since. All the babies are this size, and they seem to come in the same range of colours as the 'rainbow delights'."

Vega was staring rapturously at the furry creatures. "How much are they?" she asked eagerly, just as the doorbell rang to indicate another customer.

Harry groaned silently as an all-too-familiar voice drawled: "Well, well, well. A pathetic establishment run by a pathetic pair of drop-outs."

Fred's eyes narrowed as he turned to face the newcomer, but there was no hint of any anger in his voice as he pleasantly replied. "We prefer 'entrepreneurs', old bean. You know, people who establish new businesses and have lots and lots of gold coming in as a result. I understand that some families have the opposite problem, lots and lots of gold going out. All those bribes don't pay themselves, do they? And I understand it's getting more and more expensive to fund illegal terrorist organisations these days. Perhaps when your dear old Dad gets out of Azkaban we'll make him an offer for your Manor."

Twin spots of red had appeared on Malfoy's cheeks at Fred's words, but before he had chance to respond the doorbell jangled again. Harry turned to see that the latest arrival was a tall, aristocratic-looking blonde who he had last seen at the quidditch world cup two years earlier.

Narcissa Malfoy's gaze passed quickly over those present until she spied Vega, trying unsuccessfully to hide behind George. "Vega, what have I told you about staying close to me?" she scolded her daughter. "There are some very unsavoury characters to be found in Diagon Alley."

"Like every non-Malfoy currently in this worthless establishment", commented Malfoy coldly.

Narcissa's gaze was now trained on the knot of people at the counter. To Harry's surprise her somewhat blank expression cleared as she focused on Remus, and a tentative smile appeared on her face.

"Remus? Is that you?" she breathed. "I haven't seen you since . . ." Her expression clouded again and she trailed off, sounding vaguely puzzled.

"Mother," snapped Malfoy. "We do not speak to blood traitors and animals." He grabbed Vega's hand and gestured to the door. "We are leaving."

Narcissa's aristocratic bearing returned, and she turned her again-cold gaze on Harry and his friends. "It is clear that the quality of the establishments in the Alley has gone significantly downhill. Come, children" she ordered, and the three of them swept from the shop, although not before Vega gestured at her bag, then her brother and winked at Fred.

Fred and George stared thoughtfully after them, while Remus seemed to be lost in thoughts of his own. Harry was puzzled. Narcissa's comments and bearing on exit were everything he would have expected from a Malfoy. But her earlier attitude to Vega and then her comments to Remus seemed those of a different person. He turned to Remus and the twins.

"Remus, do you know Narcissa Malfoy?"

Remus snapped out of his contemplation and considered the question. "I used to think I did," he eventually replied. "But today is the first time I've seen or spoken to her in almost twenty years."

"Did she seem a bit . . . off, to you?" asked Harry, aiming his question at everyone.

Dudley shrugged, but the twins nodded emphatically. "There's something not right there," said Fred. "George and I have tested enough of our products on each other to recognise when someone's under the influence of something else. And she was certainly under the influence of something. Although that's not to say that, whatever it is, it isn't self-administered. Being married to Lucius Malfoy would certainly be enough to drive me to drink, or worse."

Remus had paled as Fred spoke. "You think that she's on drugs?" he asked incredulously. "Narcissa Black – er, Malfoy, would never take drugs!"

George spread his hands. "You said you hadn't seen her for twenty years. How would you know? The blank expression, the mood changes, incoherence. They all suggest that something is influencing her."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "Think about, Remus," he said. "She's gone from being well respected in society, the wife of an influential man, to being the wife of a terrorist who was captured breaking into the Ministry of Magic."

Remus was shaking his head emphatically. "No, Narcissa was always stronger than that. If she is under the influence of something, she isn't taking it herself."

"Who else would be giving her anything?" asked Fred reasonably. "And why?"

Remus grimaced, obviously unable to counter the argument. "If she's under the influence of something, it isn't self-administered," he insisted stubbornly. "I'll have a word with Hestia Jones, she's a healer, and see what she thinks."

Harry looked at his watch as the doorbell rang again, prompting an influx of customers for the twins. "Come on Dud," he said. "Time to hit the bookshop, I think."

Waving goodbye to the twins, Harry, Dudley and Remus headed back up the Alley and towards Flourish & Blotts. "Could you give me a few pointers on what to buy?" Harry asked Remus as they walked into the shop.

"What do you want to learn?" came the reply.

"I need books for arithmancy and ancient runes, beginners level, but some more advanced stuff too. I want to try and learn the subjects quickly and will be putting a lot of work in over the summer. I'll also be getting my sixth year books for transfiguration, charms and defence but I'd also like some more advanced stuff for those subjects, too. And maybe something on spellcraft and warding, ready for summer school. Occlumency, too."

Remus smiled at Harry's enthusiasm. "That's quite a list, but if you've got the galleons I can certainly make some suggestions."

Half an hour later, Harry left the shop 500 galleons lighter but with a shrunken stack of nearly fifty books on a variety of subjects.

"You'll need more bookshelves at home, Harry," said Dudley. "You've got the start of a library there."

"Hermione will be suitably impressed," said Remus with a smile.

Harry grinned. "I suspect I've got a long way to go to catch up with Hermione" he said as the three of them made their way back to the Leaky Cauldron. Passing back into the main bar of the pub Harry slowed as he recognised Kingsley Shacklebolt and Emmeline Vance, two members of the Order of the Phoenix, talking to Tom the barman and heard his name mentioned. He tugged Remus and Dudley to a halt before they were spotted.

"Remus, could you cause a bit of a distraction while Dudley and I slip out onto Charing Cross Road," whispered Harry. "We're going to do a bit of clothes shopping before we head home."

Remus sighed, but Harry suspected from the small smile on his face that he didn't really mind.

"Wait here until they're distracted, then get out as quickly as possible," Remus instructed, before slipping into one of the pub's side-rooms.

Dudley shot a questioning look at Harry, who could only shrug in return.

Suddenly a piercing scream sounded from the room into which Remus had disappeared. Everyone in the bar was looking around in various degrees of alarm, including Vance and Shacklebolt, who immediately drew their wands and headed into the room, not giving Harry or Dudley a second look as they ran past.

Wasting no time the cousins immediately broke for the front door, but before they reached the gateway to muggle London Harry felt himself being tugged sideways. He tried to fight against the pull, but was unsuccessful and quickly found himself ensconced in a booth to the side of the door, a rather startled Dudley at his side, with two cloaked and hooded figures on the other side of the table. He quickly drew his wand, but stayed his hand as one of the figures spoke.

"Poor reactions, Potter," growled the figure. "If I was a Death Eater you'd be in real trouble now."

"Professor Moody!" exclaimed Harry, adding quickly "Tell me something only the real Moody would know."

"Better," said Moody gruffly, pulling down his hood. "At the beginning of last summer we extracted you from your relatives' house under cover of a 'Best Suburban Lawn' competition." His eye swivelled to the right. "Quiet! They're coming out."

Harry turned to see Shacklebolt and Vance coming out of the side room. Moody whispered a charm, and Harry could suddenly hear their conversation as though they were stood next to him.

"Honestly, Remus, you're a werewolf!" exclaimed Vance. "How on earth can you be afraid of a mouse? From the screams we thought someone was being attacked!"

"It was quite a large mouse," said Remus mildly, "and it moved rather quickly. I thought it was going to run up my robe, and panicked."

Vance stared at him in disbelief, apparently lost for words.

Apparently feeling the need to explain himself further, Remus continued. "It twitched its nose at me," he said solemnly.

Shacklebolt looked thoughtfully at Remus, keeping his eyes on him while saying to Vance: "I'm sure that Remus is quite embarrassed about the scream. It was loud enough to drive us to distraction, after all."

Harry held his breath at the emphasis placed by Shacklebolt on 'distraction'.

"Smart lad," said Moody approvingly.

Shacklebolt glanced round the room, his gaze passing over Harry's table without stopping, before ushering Remus and Vance towards the Alley entrance. "Since you're here, Remus, you can help us search the Alley. I doubt that Harry will be there," he said pointedly, "but you never know." The three of them moved off towards the Alley entrance and disappeared from sight. Harry let out his breath in relief, and turned back to Moody and his still-hooded companion.

"If the Order's looking for me, and you're part of the Order, why didn't you tell them I was here?" asked Harry. "And who's under the hood?" he added.

"Albus and I have different ideas about what the Order should be doing," growled Moody. "I'm not a babysitter, and you're not a baby. If others want to chase you all over the country, let them. If they don't know where you are, I doubt the Death Eaters do either. In any event, Death Eaters are terrorists. Attacking someone in broad daylight has never been their style. If you can give the Order the slip, that's fair enough in my book."

While Moody had been talking his companion's hood had been lowered, revealing a middle-aged woman with grey hair tied back in a ponytail. A light scar ran down one cheek, but the smile on her face and the crinkles around her brown eyes softened the effect.

"This is an old friend and colleague of mine, 'Cheesewire' Penharrow," said Moody.

"Cheesewire?" blurted Harry. This didn't sound like a genuine name, even for the wizarding world.

At the same time, Penharrow had turned to Moody. "Honestly, Alastor," she said, clearly annoyed. "Would it hurt you to use my given name? You don't hear me calling you 'Mad-Eye', do you?"

Moody shrugged. "I've known you for over 50 years, that's how you were introduced to me and that's what I've always called you. I'm not going to change now. It's your own fault, anyway."

Penharrow rolled her eyes and turned to Harry and Dudley. "You garrotte a couple of dark wizards in a dairy and people don't let you live it down."

Harry paled, but it was Dudley who managed to speak first. "Garrotte?" he squeaked.

"Long story," said Penharrow. "But briefly, it was one of my first assignments as an auror – some routine enquiries at a wizard-owned farm down in Devon. Unfortunately for me I stumbled into a meeting of some of the remnants of the Knights of Walpurgis. They got the drop on me and I lost my wand, but we were in a dairy and I found some cheesewire. Half an hour of stealthy creeping around later and there were two ex-Knights by the time my back-up arrived. The name stuck," she concluded ruefully.

"Always keep hold of your wand, Potter," warned Moody. "But you will lose it, on occasion, so you should always have a back-up or two. And you should also give some thought to how you'd fight without one. Most wizards rely totally on their wands but that doesn't mean that you have to. The Knights thought that Cheesewire was defenceless because they'd got her wand. They didn't take the search for her seriously. And they died."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. He could see the sense in Moody's comments.

"So," said Penharrow, breaking into Harry's thoughts. "Albus and his merry men seem, from what Alastor tells me, to be concentrating on keeping you under wraps for the summer. What are you actually planning to do?"

Harry hesitated before answering. Penharrow might be a friend of Moody's, but Harry knew absolutely nothing about her and wasn't sure that he wanted to tell her where he'd be over the summer.

Penharrow rolled her eyes again at Harry's hesitation. "You're as paranoid as Alastor," she said. "You don't have to give me a detailed itinerary, I was simply making conversation.

"It's not paranoia when there really is someone out to get you," chipped in Dudley.

"I like the way you think, lad," Moody told him approvingly.

Now it was Harry's turn to roll his eyes. "I'm planning on studying some new subjects over the summer," he said, deciding that there was no real harm in telling Moody and Penharrow his plans, given that so many others either already knew them or would soon. "Dudley and I are also going on holiday to Cornwall later in the summer with a few others. We're going to try to hunt down the Beast of Bodmin."

Moody grunted. "Albus told me about your plans to go to summer school at the Dee. So did Molly Weasley. At great length. I'll tell you what I told them. The Dee's a decent school, and Rosalind Franklin's not someone I want to cross. I doubt if that will stop Albus, but that's his problem."

"You've been there?" asked Harry. "What's it like?"

"It's a school," replied Moody shortly. "But Franklin wouldn't let a lot of the stuff that Albus turns a blind eye to at Hogwarts get past her."

This gave Harry something else to think about. Moody, even if not actually in the Lupin / Tonks / Shacklebolt camp, certainly didn't seem to be whole-heartedly in Dumbledore's.

"What's this about the Beast of Bodmin?" asked Penharrow.

She was treated to a short history of the Beast from Dudley, who concluded: "So Harry's going to recruit some of his friends and there'll hopefully be enough of us to cover a decent-sized area and run any sightings to ground really quickly."

Penharrow actually looked interested at Dudley's outlining of their plans. "I grew up on an estate on the edge of Bodmin Moor," she explained, "and there were always stories about strange things happening on the Moor, and not just among the muggles. There are a fair few wizarding families down there and they had just as many stories."

"What kind of stories?" asked Dudley eagerly.

"There were always rumours of strange beasts seen around there," said Penharrow. My father said that the Ministry sent a team of investigators down there when he was younger because some of the sightings sounded like magical creatures, but as far as I know they never found anything. There were also stories about mysterious lights seen late at night on the moor, people disappearing and the like."

"Sounds like you've got your work cut out," said Moody. He pulled out a watch and cursed briefly before rising to his feet. "I need to be somewhere else." He pulled out his wand and tapped both Harry and Dudley on the head. "That'll last until you're outside."

Harry recognised the same disillusionment charm that Moody had performed a year ago, and reached out and grabbed Dudley's arm before he could move. "Thanks Professor, Madam Penharrow," he said as he manoeuvred himself and his cousin out of the booth, Dudley echoing his thanks. Ten seconds later and the two cousins were blinking in the sunlight, back on Charing Cross Road.

Putting the world of magic out of their minds, the cousins spent an enjoyable couple of hours browsing through dozens of small clothes shops in the area between Oxford Street and Soho. Harry came away with a rather eclectic collection of new clothes to complement the ones Aunt Petunia had bought for him at the weekend. Most of those had been dark colours, mainly black, but Dudley had persuaded him to try on a number of brightly coloured items, "for contrast". Harry had protested, visions of Dumbledore's robes flashing through his head, until he'd tried on a scarlet waistcoat with small gold lions emblazoned all over it. He was simply displaying loyalty to his house he told himself, as he couldn't resist buying it. That didn't explain the green silk shirt shot with silver stars, or the deep purple jacket, and so Harry stopped trying to justify his purchases and simply bought the items that he liked.

It was two weary and purchase-laden cousins who made their way back to Charing Cross that evening, but overall Harry was very satisfied with his day. He'd cleared the air with Remus, found out about his family and laid the foundations for his summer's studying. He had also enjoyed simply spending time with Dudley and was coming to realise that he was fast becoming good friends with his cousin.

Aunt Petunia had dinner waiting for them when they got home, and then Harry, Dudley and Uncle Vernon settled down to watch England's football match against Holland. As still-unfamiliar with the game as Harry was, he recognised that England were dominant and this was reflected in the score. "4-1," crowed Dudley triumphantly at the end of the match. "4-1! If we keep playing like that, we'll win the tournament easily."

Uncle Vernon was also pleased with the result, but was more restrained than Dudley. "I've seen it all before," he warned his son. "Don't get too excited. We play well for a few games, everyone starts getting their hopes up, and then we end up getting knocked out by the Germans." Dudley was less than convinced.

It was only when Harry decided to turn in for the night that he spotted the large stone bowl and pedestal in the corner of his room; he had overlooked it when quickly dumping his day's purchases on this bed earlier in the evening. He realised that it was slightly smaller than the pensieve in the Headmaster's office, but the pedestal seemed to be an integral part of this one as it, like the bowl, was covered in carved runes.

Harry was delighted; now he could show his confrontation with Tom Riddle's avatar to Helia Greengrass, and also share some of his more interesting adventures with his friends. He pulled out his wand, eager to try the pensieve out, only to realise that he didn't actually know how to use it. He had seen Dumbledore use his wand to extract a memory, but didn't know how it had been done, or how the memories could be replaced. Thinking about it further, he didn't even know whether the extracted memory strand was a copy of a memory or the original. He looked at the pensive in frustration. The dozens, if not hundreds, of runes carved on it might tell him what to do, but he couldn't read them. Exasperated, he threw his wand onto the desk, accepting that he would have to do some research before he was able to use the pensieve.

He was sure that Hermione would have some suggestions for him, but deciding that this was the perfect opportunity to begin his study of Ancient Runes he picked out the third-year text that Remus had selected for him, settled into bed and began to read.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5, in which the Dee Academy is introduced, along with a number of its students and faculty**

_Wednesday 19 June 1996_

Harry had worked out that his portkey was timed to activate at 9:43 and 30 seconds, and so at 9:40 he was stood in the kitchen at No 4 talking to Dudley and Aunt Petunia, who were eagerly waiting to see what would happen when the portkey activated. He had decided to dress muggle, rather than wizard, and was wearing his new 'Gryffindor' waistcoat over a white shirt and black jeans.

Right on time Harry felt the familiar tug behind his navel, followed by extreme disorientation, before he landed awkwardly in what looked to be a large hall containing scattered groups of people. He had only a brief moment to take all of this in, though, as he lost his footing on landing and sprawled head-first into one group of three people, taking them down like skittles.

After several muffled curses, the people on top of him managed to right themselves. One of them, a stocky blond youth, held out a hand. Harry took it, and was pulled to his feet. His other two victims, a short dark-haired girl and a slim Asian youth glared at him whilst ostentatiously brushing themselves down.

Harry felt himself flushing. "Sorry about that," he apologised. "I hate portkeys. Are you alright?"

"No broken bones," said the blond easily. "I'd like to know how you managed to arrive moving so fast, though. Were you running when the portkey activated?"

"No, I was standing in the kitchen talking to my aunt and cousin," protested Harry. "Every portkey I've ever taken has spat me out like that. Maybe I just need more practice."

"You should arrive with the same momentum you had when you left," commented the Asian youth, his disgruntled expression becoming interested. "The only way to get you moving that fast would be to be moving when the portkey activated, or to really overcharge it. I think." He held out his hand. "Mandeep Kassaban, pleased to meet you."

"Harry Potter, likewise," replied Harry, shaking the proffered hand.

"Are you really?" said the dark-haired girl dubiously. "I thought you'd be taller," she continued, as she also shook his hand. "Joanne Chalmers."

"He's taller than you," commented the blond with a grin as he also shook Harry's hand. "John Foulds. So what brings the Boy Who Lived to the Dee Academy?"

Harry grimaced. "Just Harry, please," he said. "And I'm here for the same reason as everyone else, I assume – to learn some things that aren't taught as part of the usual subjects that we study." He looked around the Hall, mentally comparing it to the Great Hall at Hogwarts. It was about the same size, he decided, but without the enchanted ceiling. Instead, large windows were set into the top of the walls all around the Hall. An open space had been left for portkey arrivals, with the rest of the Hall taken up by random scatterings of chairs and tables. The overall décor was such that, if not for the regular appearance of students out of thin air, the room would not be out of place in any non-magical school.

Small groups of students were beginning to form and Harry scanned them, looking for familiar faces. It wasn't too difficult to pick out at least some of the Hogwarts contingent, though. The robes were something of a giveaway, since most students were dressed the same as Harry, in jeans and a variety of tops.

Two of the robe-wearers approached. "Nice landing, Harry," said Terry Boot. "How did you manage to arrive at that speed?"

"I don't know," replied Harry irritably. "It wasn't intentional."

"Of course it wasn't," said Lisa Turpin, elbowing Terry, before turning and introducing herself and Terry to the Dee students, who were eyeing their robes with interest.

"I assume you go to Hogwarts?" said John, and receiving nods in reply continued "Do you wear those robes all the time there? I mean, is that normal daywear?"

"Well, these are casual robes," explained Lisa. "Our school uniforms are just plain work robes."

"What's the difference between a casual robe and a work robe?" Joanne asked Harry.

Harry shrugged. "I have no idea," he confessed. "They all look like dresses to me. You'll note that I'm not wearing 'casual' robes," he pointed out with a grin. "Is it down to colour?" he asked Terry, whose robes were a very dark blue compared to the black of a Hogwarts work robe. "Or is it style? To be honest, I don't see much difference between those robes and our school robes."

"No difference?" spluttered Terry. "Harry, these robes are a completely different cut from our school robes, as well as being made from better quality material. And they're a different colour!"

"You simply have no fashion sense, Harry," said a voice behind him. Harry spun to see Daphne and Tracey, both also wearing robes, smirking at him. "No-one with any fashion sense would wear that gold and red . . . whatever it is."

"It's a waistcoat," said Harry defensively. "And I like it."

"So do I, mate," another voice interrupted, as Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan approached the group. It was Seamus who'd spoken, but Dean was also nodding his agreement. Neither of them were wearing robes, which didn't surprise Harry since Dean was muggleborn and Seamus' father was a muggle.

"Gryffindors," said Daphne sadly, leaning towards Harry and kissing him on the cheek. "Colour-blind to a man."

Harry blushed as Seamus and Dean both whistled and applauded the kiss and he managed, out of sight of Daphne, to make a rude gesture in their direction.

"They look rather restrictive, compared to normal clothes," commented Mandeep, who was still studying Terry's robes. "And what happens if it gets hot? What do you wear underneath them?"

"Well," said Harry slyly, "according to a wizard I met at the World Cup a couple of years ago, you don't wear anything under them. Apparently it's healthy to feel a bit of a breeze round your unmentionables!"

All four robe-wearers flushed at the sudden attention focused on their robes. Harry's comment had been aimed at Terry, but he was suddenly conscious of Daphne standing by his side and his mind drifted onto what she might be wearing underneath her robe.

"Mind out of the gutter, Potter," snapped Tracey, bringing him abruptly back to earth. "I don't know who it was you met that said that, but I can assure you that there is no breeze around my unmentionables, thank you very much."

"So, er, what is generally worn under robes?" asked Joanne, somewhat nervously.

Tracy shrugged. "If you're used to wearing muggle clothes, those are worn." She turned to Harry. "I assume that if we were at Hogwarts, you'd simply wear your robes over what you're wearing today. Which would at least spare us all from that red and gold monstrosity."

Harry flushed at this further slur on his dress sense.

"If you're wizard-born," Tracey continued, "it varies. It's true that some wizards do indeed prefer not to wear anything under their robes," she shuddered theatrically, "but there are a range of options, from nothing to a full muggle outfit." She turned to Mandeep. "If you're used to them, robes aren't especially restrictive. And as for temperature, well, are you a wizard or not? That's what heating and cooling charms are for. In fact, those charms are woven into the more expensive robes."

The group around Harry had grown larger as Tracey was speaking, with both Dee and Hogwarts students approaching, including Justin Finch-Fletchley.

"Ah, Tracey," said Justin dreamily. "If only you'd tell me what's under your robes I could die a happy man."

"Tell you?" said Tracey, affecting an air of surprise. "I'm happy to show you, Justin, you only had to ask."

There were more than a few indrawn breaths as Tracey reached down to unfasten her robe. Her hand reached inside, but rather than pull open the robe it reappeared at speed, brandishing a familiar item.

"This is what's under my robe, Justin," said Tracey dangerously. "It's called a wand. Any more comments about what's under my robe and you may well get your wish to die happy. Well, to die, anyway."

Justin gulped at the sight of Tracey's wand aimed directly between his eyes and slowly raised his hands. "Fair enough, Tracey," he said nervously, "no more idle speculation about your unmentionables, got it."

Tracey grimaced, but did at least lower her wand and, with a final stare at the cowed Hufflepuff, turned back and continued her conversation with the Dee students on wizarding attire.

Harry sidled up to Justin. "How are you still alive?" he asked rhetorically. "You must have pissed off every girl in the castle by now."

"They can't resist my natural charm," said Justin confidently, although this was rather belied by the nervous looks he was casting in Tracey's direction.

In the meantime more students had been portkeying into the Hall, including several more from Hogwarts, and these latter students seemed to be gravitating towards Harry. He spotted Hermione, and most of last year's DA members, but there was no sign of Ron or Ginny.

Suddenly a _sonorus_-enhanced voice rang out. "Welcome, everyone, to the Dee Academy Summer School Open Day! Please take a seat."

Harry moved towards Daphne, and the two of them quickly found seats. Whilst he and his friends had been talking a number of wizards and witches had mounted a dais at the front of the Hall, and a tall, stately-looking dark-haired witch had moved to the front of it. It was she who had called the Hall to order. She looked around the Hall, which Harry thought must now be filled with around two hundred students of various ages, around thirty of which he thought were from Hogwarts.

"Welcome, all of you, to the Dee Academy's first official Summer School. For those of you who are not students here, I am Rosalind Franklin, the Headmistress of the Academy. I am pleased to see so many new faces here and hope that you will enjoy yourselves, both today and, if you decide to sign up for any of our programmes, over the rest of the summer. Our teachers can be found in their usual classrooms which, for those unfamiliar with the school, are clearly signed. Alternatively, ask any Dee student or teacher you see if you require assistance. I hope that there will be something to suit all tastes. Including lunch," she concluded with a smile, "which will be served here in the Hall at 1pm. Enjoy your day!"

With that, the Headmistress stepped down from the dais and moved to chat to some of the students sitting close to the front of the Hall.

Harry turned to Daphne. "Right then, where first?"

A cough drew their attention to Mandeep Kassaban, who had found a seat behind them. "If you're looking for a place to start," he said diffidently, "I know that many of the Dee students are interested in projects on arithmancy and warding. I'd be happy to show you to Dr Reynolds' classroom, if you'd like."

Daphne smiled at him. "Thank you, that would be perfect."

As they stood, Daphne nudged Harry and inclined her head towards the front of the Hall. The Headmistress was talking to a robed student, who as they watched turned, scanned the Hall and on spotting Harry raised his hand.

"What's Ernie doing?" asked Hermione, approaching Harry from the side.

"Dropping me in it, by the looks of it," sighed Harry, as the Headmistress bore down on them, forging through a sea of students like a galleon in full sail with Ernie bobbing in her wake.

"Mr Potter," said the Headmistress, reaching out and shaking his hand. "Mr Macmillan here was just explaining that you are responsible for the large turnout of Hogwarts students here today, which came as something as a surprise since you weren't on our mailing list for the Summer School brochures."

"I didn't force anyone to come," protested Harry defensively. "A friend showed me his brochure and asked if I was signing up, and I thought it was a good idea so we passed copies round to anyone we thought might be interested."

"It wasn't a criticism, Mr Potter," said the Headmistress, smiling reassuringly. "On the contrary, I'm delighted to see so many Hogwarts students. We only sent out twelve brochures, so to get over thirty requests for portkeys was a pleasant surprise."

"Why did you only send out twelve brochures?" asked Hermione curiously.

"The terms of our Charter with the Ministry of Magic are such that we are only allowed to invite students of completely non-magical parentage to attend the Dee," said the Headmistress. The expression on her face at the mention of the Ministry suggested that her opinion of it wasn't particularly high. "So we are only provided with the names of those potential students. Some of them choose to attend Hogwarts, but we still have their names and addresses and so those are the students who were sent brochures. Given that they chose Hogwarts over us in the first place, we were unsure if any of them would be interested in our Summer School. So, as I say, we were delighted by the response."

Daphne had been looking around the Hall during the Headmistress's explanation. "I hadn't realised there were so many muggleborns," she said quietly. "There are so few at Hogwarts, I thought that there were only a few born each year."

The Headmistress nodded understandingly. "We've been attracting more and more first-generation wizards and witches here as the years have gone by. The Hogwarts curriculum is hopelessly inadequate for anyone who intends to keep in contact with the modern, non-magical world. And British wizarding society is so small it offers little in the way of genuine opportunity for the average first-generation school-leaver. Add in the institutional prejudice against first-generation wizards and witches, which we explain fully to the parents of our prospective students, and there are very few who decide that Hogwarts is a better choice."

"How many students do you have?" asked Ernie, who had been following the Headmistress's speech with interest.

"This year just ended, we had 732. This coming year we will probably have around 750."

Harry could see that Ernie, Daphne and Hermione were as surprised as he was.

"That's more than Hogwarts!" blurted Ernie.

The Headmistress shrugged. "Over the past fifty years or so it has become clear that Hogwarts does not really want to attract first-generation wizards and witches. To be honest, having seen their curriculum and spoken to a number of past students, I'm surprised they attract anyone. We are more than happy to take the students that Hogwarts doesn't want. We have taught some truly exceptional students over the last few decades, and Hogwarts' loss is certainly our gain. Last year we invited 94 eleven-year-old first-generation wizards and witches to study here. Three of them declined all offers that involved magic, three of them opted for Hogwarts and 88 of them opted for the Dee. I fully expect that within the next five years Hogwarts will, for the first time, have no first-generation students among its first years.

Hermione was obviously thinking about the figures. "If ninety muggleborns is an average year, how have you got over 700 students?" she asked.

"We are only permitted to _**invite**_ first-generation wizards and witches to study here," replied the Headmistress. "But we can _**accept**_ any student. As the years have passed our former students have begun to have families of their own. The majority of our former students approach us and we, of course, accept their children as students."

Harry had an unpleasant thought, and it must have shown on his face. "Problem, Mr Potter?" asked the Headmistress.

"Does Voldemort know about the school?" asked Harry bluntly. "I'd think he must do, if the Ministry does, because he's got a lot of supporters there. He hates muggleborns. Aren't you worried about an attack?"

"We are not unaware of the threat posed by Tom Riddle," said the Headmistress with a grim smile, and surprising Harry with the fact that she knew Voldemort's real name. "We have, though, taken steps to ensure that our students' home addresses are not available to him. Most of our students do not frequent 'wizarding' areas, and so are not in any danger from random attacks there. That only leaves the school, and Riddle does not have the power or the support to mount a successful attack here. If he were to try, which seems unlikely in itself as it wasn't a tactic he used during his first rise in the 1970s, he would fail."

"You seem very confident of that," said Hermione doubtfully. "Most witches and wizards are afraid of his name. If he turned up in person, everyone would try to run away and they'd be slaughtered."

"That may be true of Hogwarts educated wizards," said the Headmistress dismissively, "but my staff was almost all educated here at the Dee. They are wary of a powerful wizard, but not afraid of a mere name. Several of them, myself included, are quite capable of taking Riddle down should they come face to face with him."

This comment did cause raised eyebrows from the Hogwarts students. "You're more powerful than You-Know-Who?" blurted Ernie in obvious disbelief, before flushing as he realised how that sounded. "I'm sorry," he continued quickly, "I wasn't trying to insult you. It's just that everyone says that You-Know-Who is the most powerful Dark Lord ever. Professor Dumbledore is the only person he's afraid of, and Dumbledore is usually said to be the most powerful wizard in the country."

The Headmistress shrugged. "I met Riddle several times back in the 1950s and 60s," she explained. "He was powerful, yes, but not all-powerful. His reputation is derived in large part from fear, not ability." Her gaze swept round her listeners. "Why is Riddle considered to be so powerful? What is the evidence?"

There was a moment's silence, before Hermione said "He's killed everyone who ever opposed him, except for Professor Dumbledore."

"And?" said the Headmistress. " If I and twelve colleagues turned up unexpectedly at 2am at the unprotected home of any wizard in the country, intent on killing that wizard, then short of something truly exceptional happening that wizard would die. That doesn't mean I'm all-powerful, just that I recognise the value of planning, surprise and superior numbers."

This made sense to Harry. It was the same explanation for Voldemort's success that Remus had given. He turned to Ernie. "I've duelled Voldemort, and I'm still alive. I was lucky, true, and he's certainly powerful, but he's not unbeatable. What evidence is there that he's so powerful? How many of the people he's killed were killed in a straight fight, as opposed to being executed after being dragged out of bed by a dozen Death Eaters in the middle of the night?"

Ernie nodded thoughtfully. "I'd never really thought about it like that," he admitted. "I still wouldn't like to face him, though!"

"There is no shame in that," said the Headmistress. "He is, as I have said, a powerful wizard. What you should do is ensure that your home is secure and well warded and that you have a means of calling for help should you come under attack. Too many people died at the hands of Death Eaters simply because they were unprepared."

"Well," concluded the Headmistress briskly, "I don't want to keep you from the day's activities. I hope you all find something that interests you, and thank you again Mr Potter for encouraging your friends to visit us today." With a final nod she moved off to talk to another group of lingering students.

"Right, that's definitely encouraged me to look seriously at Warding as a subject," said Harry with a grin. "Lead on Mandeep."

**OoOoO**

A short walk brought Harry and his friends to a large classroom that was already full of students, including several from Hogwarts. The sign on the door read "Arithmancy". As Harry entered the room from one end, a door at the other end of the room opened and a short, swarthy man entered from there.

"That's Dr Reynolds," said Mandeep. "He teaches Arithmancy, but is also an expert in runic magic generally. He's going to be supervising a lot of the projects involving Warding and Enchanting."

"Thank you, thank you," boomed a voice from the front of the classroom. "Settle down people." Reynolds looked approvingly around the classroom. "I'm pleased to see so many people who wish to further their knowledge of arithmancy, which is the basis for some of the most powerful magic there is. It's also good to see some new faces here."

Harry looked around the classroom. There looked to be around thirty students present, including half a dozen from Hogwarts.

"Arithmancy," continued Reynolds," allows us to understand magic. With that understanding we can use it to do marvellous things. We break magic down, isolate the individual thauments and then build them up again into something spectacular!"

Harry raised his hand, somewhat apologetically. Reynolds looked slightly disgruntled at being interrupted so quickly, but nodded at Harry. "I'm sorry, Sir," said Harry, "but what's a thaument?"

"It's a word we use to refer to an arithmantic component of a spell," answered Dr Reynolds.

Harry was none the wiser. "I'm sorry again, Sir," he apologised, "but I didn't take arithmancy as a subject and I don't know what that means."

"Should be a compulsory subject," grumbled the teacher. "Well?" he snapped at the other students around Harry. "Anyone want to explain?"

Unsurprisingly Hermione raised her hand, and at a nod from Reynolds launched into an explanation.

"Arithmancy is a subject which seeks to analyse and understand magic," she began, echoing Reynolds' introduction. "All spells can, in theory, be broken down into their component parts which can be expressed both numerically and runically. Once the parts are known, they can be reconstructed runically so as to produce an area-wide version of a spell. The area-effect spell can be studied, so the effects of the cast spell can be better understood, and it may be possible to improve it so that the runic spell is more effective than the cast version. The arithmantic components of a spell are the various sub-spells which, in combination, produce the overall effect."

"Hogwarts?" interrupted Reynolds.

"Yes," admitted Hermione warily.

"A bit behind the times, but basically correct," came the response.

Hermione looked outraged but Reynolds continued, not giving her a chance to reply.

"As you may, or may not, be aware, all magic is based on intent. You agree?" he said, looking at Hermione. She nodded.

"All magic is, is you as a wizard wishing for something to happen, and it happening. Poof. No incantation, no wand movements, just a wish. The schools try to standardise things by using standard wand movements and verbalised incantations, but if you had a hundred wizards cast the same spell and then arithmantically analysed them all, you'd have a hundred different results."

There was a stunned silence from the Hogwarts contingent, although the Dee students looked as though they'd heard this lecture before.

Hermione was the first to recover. "That can't be right! We've performed basic arithmantic analysis on several spells in class, and they all come out the same, no matter who casts the spell. The thauments are identical. They're listed in the textbooks!"

"When was your textbook published?" asked Reynolds. "I'm willing to bet it was before 1974. I know for a fact that up until at least 5 years ago there was no arithmancy text more recent than that in the Hogwarts library.

"What happened in 1974?" asked Blaise with interest.

"A couple of Japanese researchers developed a far more sensitive thaumentometer than had previously been available. It showed that what the older thamentometers showed as identical thauments, weren't."

"So why isn't this taught at Hogwarts?" demanded Hermione.

Reynolds shrugged. "Hogwarts has been dumbing down its curriculum for decades. Very little in the way of new developments get taught there, and the more challenging subjects are slowly being sidelined. Students learn subjects like Divination and Care of Magical Creatures, which are interesting enough, I suppose, but hardly academically rigorous. And they don't really qualify you for anything. Hardly anyone takes Arithmancy there as a subject anymore. How many in your year take it?"

"Six," admitted Hermione, as Harry winced at the reference to the two optional subjects that he himself had signed up for at Hogwarts.

"Here at the Dee, around three-quarters of our students take it, which means around 75 or 80 a year. We've been trying to get the WEA to update the syllabus for the last ten years and we've finally persuaded them. Next year, Hogwarts is in for a bit of a shock!"

Harry was still thinking about Reynolds' earlier explanation, and raised his hand again. At a nod from Reynolds, he asked: "If wand movements and incantations are unnecessary, why do we use them?"

The rest of the Hogwarts students looked expectantly at Reynolds, who shook his head in disbelief. "I take it that Hogwarts isn't big on Magical Theory," he said rhetorically, before looking at his own students. "Anyone want to explain?"

Joanne Chalmers stepped forward with a grin and bowed to the class. "I'll give it a go," she said confidently, and Reynolds indicated that she should continue.

"Deliberate, controlled magic requires intense concentration on the desired result," she began. "If you don't truly desire the end result, you won't get it. Summoning up that intense concentration every time you want to cast a spell is virtually impossible. You need an absolutely clear focus, even if just for a split second, but if there are other things going on around you, you'll never get that. That's why you very rarely manage to cast a spell correctly on the first attempt."

"Unless your name's Granger," whispered Blaise loudly, to general laughter and a blush from Hermione.

Joanne smiled. "So one of the purposes of the wand movement and incantation is to get you to concentrate, however briefly. You've seen your teacher perform the spell, so you know what to expect, and you're totally focused on doing the same. Eventually, you do."

"But once you've mastered a spell, you don't have to keep concentrating like that every time you want to cast it," protested Terry Boot.

"It's a trigger," said Hermione in wonder. "How did I not realise that? We've been implanting triggers into our subconscious minds."

Joanne stepped back into the group as Reynolds nodded approvingly. "Correct. Your subconscious associates the wand movement and incantation with the desired result, and gives you the split second of absolute concentration, remembered from the implantation cast, that you need to perform the spell. You achieve the total focus necessary, but subconsciously rather than consciously. Having said that, although the incantation is strictly unnecessary, the wand movement does actually have a major effect on the success of a cast. When you are waving a wand you are actually drawing a rune, or part of a rune, in the air. Spell developers try to establish the most effective rune to use for any particular spell because, in theory, the more appropriate the rune the easier it will be to cast the spell."

Harry was surprised that this made sense to him, although he could think of several exceptions.

"What about spells with an emotional component?" he asked. "The patronus charm for example. Even when you've mastered that, and presumably implanted the trigger, it won't work if you can't summon up the emotion necessary to power it."

Reynolds looked slightly impressed. "Absolutely right," he agreed. "What are the three theoretical requirements for a successful spellcast?"

Harry considered the question. Concentration was obviously one as was, in some cases at least, emotion. But the third?

"Absolute concentration," said Harry. "Focused emotion, for some spells. And power?" he ended, questioningly.

"Right again," said Reynolds cheerfully. "Some spells require more energy to cast than is available to a particular wizard. If the power requirement isn't satisfied, the spell will fail. And as you said, if a spell is powered partly by emotion, the lack of that emotion will also cause the spell to fail. Concentration is the basis of all spells, and is a pre-requisite for a successful cast. Power and emotion are trickier, though. It's often very difficult to work out whether failure to master a spell is down to lack of power or insufficiently focused emotion."

Harry was now thinking furiously. "Surely you could narrow it down by your thaument analysis, couldn't you? He asked. "Does a thaumentometer measure the power of a spell? Could you compare that with the power of the wizard, so he'd at least know that he was theoretically powerful enough to cast it?"

As the discussion had gone on, Reynolds had become noticeably more enthusiastic. "Can anyone spot any problems with that suggestion?" he asked his audience.

One of the Dee students spoke up. "There's no way to objectively measure the strength of a wizard," he said. "I've read about some experiments that the French did in the 1960s. They selected twenty spells that they thought needed progressively more power to cast, had fifty wizards cast, or try to cast them and then tried to collate the results to grade the power of the wizards on a sliding scale."

Blaise was looking puzzled. "That sounds like a good idea. Didn't it work?"

"No," came the amused reply. "They tried the experiment several times, with different spells and different wizards, but they could never get consistent results. It was impossible to grade either the spells or the wizards consistently. For example, one group could all cast spells that another group had hardly any success with, and vice versa."

"That doesn't make sense," said Hermione.

"It didn't in the 1960s," said Reynolds. But consider what I said earlier about the new thaumentometer.

There was a moment's silence. Then:

"They were all casting the spells differently!" exclaimed Hermione excitedly. "Some of the wizards must have been using more power than others to cast, or not cast, the same spell!"

"Exactly," confirmed Reynolds. "Or at least, that's the theory. As far as I know, no-one has tried to re-run the experiment with an up to date thaumentometer."

"Do you have one here?" asked Hermione, almost bouncing with enthusiasm. "Could we do that as one of our projects?"

"Yes and yes," said Reynolds, looking equally enthusiastic. "That wasn't one of the projects I'd thought of as a possibility, but it would be a good one." He pointed to a desk at the side of the room, on which a pile of papers sat. "I think that most of the Dee students are interested in projects involving Warding, and I've set out some suggested projects over there. But it's your summer, and your projects. Whatever your interest, we should be able to get a project out of it.

Hermione had pulled a notepad and pen out of her bag, and was writing furiously as most of the other students began to look over Reynolds' suggestions. "Will you be one of my test subjects?" she asked Harry.

"Of course," he replied.

The student who had mentioned the French experiment came over and introduced himself as Alex Matthews.

"I've always been interested in power levels, of both spells and wizards," he explained. "That's how I knew about the French experiments. Would you be interested in a joint project?"

"What did you have in mind?" asked Hermione cautiously.

"Well", said Alex, "you're going to try and measure the differences in power used to cast certain spells, yes?"

"Yes," agreed Hermione.

"Well I'd like to see if the spells cast are genuinely consistent, that is, if the thaumentometer always gives the same result for a wizard every time he casts the same spell. And if they are, which they should be if the subconscious trigger theory is correct, I'd like to see if we can change it. So if we find that two wizards are casting the same spell differently, can we change one of them's cast so it matches the other?"

Harry left the two of them working out a methodology for their project, and wandered over the table with the suggested warding projects on it. The first few that he picked up, though, looked to require a far greater familiarity with runes than he possessed, and he sighed in frustration.

He heard a cough behind him, and turned to see Dr Reynolds looking over his shoulder. "Would I be right in thinking that you have no or little knowledge of runes, as well as arithmancy?" asked the doctor.

"Yes, Sir," admitted Harry. "I didn't make the best choices of optional subjects in my third year. I was hoping to use this summer to see what I've been missing, and then hopefully pick up both runes and arithmancy when I get back to Hogwarts in the autumn."

"Hmmm," mused Reynolds. "There's a limit to what you can achieve with no prior knowledge. To be honest, your best option would probably be to study the material you would have covered in your third year over the summer. It's the foundation for all subsequent years, and is mainly theoretical. If you put in some hard work, you should be able to cover the full year, and then start on the fourth year material when you get back to school."

"I was planning on doing on that already," Harry admitted. "I picked up the textbooks for both subjects up to OWL level yesterday, as well as some books on Spellcraft and Warding."

"Which ones did you get?" asked Reynolds. When he heard Harry's answer he complimented him on his choices.

"Warding for Fun and Profit" is a pretty good introduction," he told Harry. "Its first few chapters deal with warding personal property, and I think that could form the basis of a project for you. I assume you own a school trunk?"

"I do," confirmed Harry.

"Well, the textbook explains several basic security wards and how to modify them for different objects. Norse runes are pretty good for protection schemes, and they're covered in the first three chapters of Year 1 Runes. The theory behind runes generally is in the first half of Year 1 Arithmancy. Cover those chapters, and you should be able to begin to understand the warding text, and to start to think about how you might ward a trunk. When you get to that stage, write down your suggested modifications to the basic rune sets to take account of the object being warded, sketch the configuration you'd propose to use, and then come and discuss it with me." He grinned. "I'll expect to see your proposals in about a month."

Harry smiled in return. "Thank you, Sir. That sounds like a reasonable project."

"In the meantime, we'll need to work out a study schedule for you, and some homework so I can monitor your progress. Come and see me when you've read the first chapter in each of the Runes and Arithmancy texts and we'll plan out a timetable."

Harry nodded. "I'll be here one day next week, so I'll see you then."

**OoOoO**

"One down, two to go," thought Harry, as he waved at Daphne to let her know he was off to investigate another subject. Heading back to the Main Hall he spotted a sign proclaiming "Mind Arts" pointing to another classroom, and followed it. The classroom's only occupant was a young woman sitting at the teacher's desk reading a book. She looked up at Harry's entry.

"Mind Arts?" said Harry, questioningly.

"Indeed. I'm Sarah Chamberlain," replied the woman, setting her book aside. "You're interested in trying to read minds, are you?"

"What? No, not at all," replied Harry, startled. "I want to lean Occlumency so that other people can't read my mind, or plant visions in there."

Chamberlain looked surprised. "Do you have much of a problem with that sort of thing," she asked, rather patronisingly in Harry's opinion.

"Yes," he said shortly. "Voldemort has been sending me visions for most of the past year. He also seems to be able to cause me intense pain, remotely. I don't know how, but it's been suggested that it's because we share a mental link from when I disembodied him as a child. We also now share blood, since I was an unwilling participant in his resurrection ritual. But if you aren't interested in teaching me, I'll go elsewhere." He turned to leave.

"No, wait!" called Chamberlain, jumping up and moving quickly across the room towards Harry. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you. You're Harry Potter, yes?"

"Yes," agreed Harry cautiously.

"I'm sorry," repeated Chamberlain. "So far today I've had six prospective students in here, and all any of them were interested in was learning to read minds. Once I explained that legilimency doesn't really work the way they thought it ought to, and that in any event it took years to master and they'd have to learn occlumency first, none of them were interested. I assumed that you were another budding mind reader, which you're clearly not. Can we start again?"

"OK," said Harry, rather embarrassed at his short-tempered response. His reasons for wanting to learn occlumency were hardly commonplace, and he couldn't really fault the professor for being somewhat dubious. He hoped, not for the first time, that occlumency would help him to better control his temper in situations like this.

Chamberlain gestured Harry to a seat. "You say that you've been experiencing problems for a year. Could you tell me what, exactly, has been happening and what steps, if any, you've taken to combat whatever has been done to you?"

Harry took a couple of deep breaths. He hated talking about the fact that he had been unable to defend his mind against Voldemort. But without help he would never be able to improve. This might be his best chance. And he recognised that in order to help him, Chamberlain would have to be told everything that he could think of about his mental connection to the Dark Lord. "OK," he agreed reluctantly.

Over the next hour he explained how he had experienced pain in his scar whenever he had come into contact with Voldemort, and summarised each of his encounters. He also detailed his unsuccessful occlumency lessons of the previous year, and the nature of the visions that had been sent to him by Voldemort. At the conclusion of his tale he felt emotionally drained, as he was still unused to talking about his less-than-happy past, but also strangely relieved, much as he had back at Hogwarts when he had finally revealed the contents of the prophecy to Hermione and Neville.

During his explanations Chamberlain appeared to have gone through a number of emotions. She had been clearly concerned at Harry's description of physical pain from his scar, and equally clearly angry at his description of his occlumency lessons with Snape. As Harry relaxed, he noted that she had adopted a pensive expression.

"Well," she began. "Based on what you've told me, I certainly think that occlumency is a skill that would help you. But not, to be honest, because of your link with Voldemort."

"What?" exclaimed Harry. "Why else would I want to learn it?"

"Occlumency provides a sense of mental balance," explained Chamberlain. "A skilled practitioner of the art is able to control not just his thoughts but his emotions, too. Clarity of thought lessens the likelihood of emotional outbursts and rash actions. It also improves concentration and focus and so helps to improve spellcasting ability."

Harry considered Chamberlain's explanation. Yes, his primary reason for wanting to learn occlumency was to avoid a repeat of the Department of Mysteries fiasco, as well as to cut down on the amount of pain he received from his scar. But he knew that control of his temper was a side benefit of learning occlumency, and thinking about it further this was certainly a worthwhile goal in itself. An increase in concentration and commensurate increase in magical aptitude didn't sound bad either.

"OK, that makes sense," concluded Harry, "but keeping Voldemort out of my head has got to be a major benefit, too."

Chamberlain looked thoughtful. "Yes, it would be," she admitted. "But I've never heard of anyone suffering from the kind of mental invasions and remote pain and visions that you've described. I'm not convinced that occlumency would be any defence against those kind of attacks, although until you actually try to mount a defence there's no way of knowing for sure. I just don't want you to get your hopes up that occlumency will solve your problem."

Harry shook his head in confusion. He had been about to protest that Dumbledore had thought that occlumency was the answer to his problems, before remembering the headmaster's many mistaken beliefs on other issues, not least his interpretation of the prophecy. But if occlumency wasn't the answer . . .

"You say that you don't think occlumency would be a defence against my link with Voldemort," said Harry slowly. "Do you have any idea what might be a defence? Or what the root cause of our link might be?"

"No," admitted Chamberlain bluntly. "Has no-one ever asked you about this before? I would have thought that you'd have healers and researchers from all over the world queuing up to work on this, not just because you're Harry Potter but because this sounds like a unique, or at least extremely rare, magical phenomenon."

"No-one's ever done anything like that," admitted Harry, "although to be fair, it's not like I've drawn a lot of attention to it."

"Hmmm," mused Chamberlain. "I don't want to pressure you into anything, but there are quite a few researchers attached to the Dee Academy, getting ready for the launch of - " she broke off suddenly. "Sorry, that's not a subject I should be talking about. But there are a lot of researchers here who I think would be very interested in the effects of your link to Voldemort, and on the nature of the link itself. If you like, I can have a word with some of them and you can have a talk with them, to see if there's anything they can think of that might help."

Harry was briefly intrigued about the "launch" that Chamberlain had referred to, but was far more interested in the prospects of breaking his link to Voldemort. He wasn't overly-enamoured of perhaps becoming someone's research project, but had to accept that without external help he didn't have much chance of understanding what, exactly, his link to Voldemort involved, let alone breaking that link. He reached his decision.

"Yes, please, I would like to meet anyone who can help me cope with the link, and perhaps break it," said Harry.

"And occlumency?"

"That too," agreed Harry. "It doesn't sound like a bad skill to learn."

"Excellent," said Chamberlain with a smile. She pulled a pen and what looked like a day-planner out of the desk. "You'll be my first pupil this summer. What days were you thinking of coming to the Dee?"

Harry shrugged. "I've no preference, really."

"Well, shall we say next Monday for our first session?" asked Chamberlain. "Your 'lessons' at Hogwarts were worse than useless, to be honest, so we'll start then with an introduction to the subject and begin some basic mind-clearing exercises. Do you have any books on the subject?"

"I bought a couple yesterday," admitted Harry, "but I haven't had chance to look at them yet. I've got one called "Protecting the Mind" and another called "How to Thwart Thought Thieves"."

Chamberlain laughed at the second title. "I have to admit that magical textbooks have much more interesting titles than non-magical ones. I've read both of those, and they're not bad." She walked over to a bookshelf and pulled down a copy of "Protecting the Mind" and flicked through it before showing Harry the cover. "Read the first three chapters of this one before Monday and if you can, try some of the exercises described at the end of Chapter 3."

Harry stood and smiled at Chamberlain. "Thanks very much, Professor."

"Oh, I'm not a professor, Harry" said Chamberlain. "I'm a graduate student here, and the summer school gives me a chance to get a bit of teaching experience outside the usual subjects. You can call me Sarah."

"OK," said Harry, slightly confused. "What's the difference between a student and a graduate student? And between a teacher and a professor?"

"Ah," said Chamberlain in understanding. "I assume that your only experience of education has been the Hogwarts variety?"

Harry nodded.

"As I understand it, anyone who teaches at Hogwarts is accorded the title of "Professor", is that right?"

"Yes," said Harry. "I presume that's not the case here?"

"It certainly isn't," confirmed Chamberlain. "We use the same system as is used by non-magical educational establishments. "Professor" is a title granted by a university, usually to a senior member of the faculty, and is granted in recognition of a person's ability in his field, both in terms of personal accomplishments and teaching ability. Most professors have higher education qualifications, usually doctorates."

"So none of the teachers here are called 'Professor', then?" queried Harry.

"Not yet," replied Chamberlain. "In general, the staff are called either by their title and name, or just 'sir' or 'miss', much as you'd get in a non-magical school. We have several doctors here, and all of the teachers have at least an undergraduate degree and a teaching certificate, both from non-magical universities. The Dee insists that its teaching staff are both experts in their subjects, and genuinely able to teach. A full range of non-magical subjects are taught here, and that's the only way that the school can get accreditation from the non-magical authorities."

"So what does that mean for you?" asked Harry. "You said you were a graduate student?"

"That's right," said Chamberlain. "I have a degree in biology from Newcastle University, and I'm going back there in the autumn to do my PGCE – that's teacher training. Because I'm not yet a qualified teacher my lessons this summer will be supervised by one of the other teachers here, which will work out quite well since he's one of the people that I intend to consult about your scar connection."

"Biology?" said Harry. "Nothing magical?"

Chamberlain smiled. "At the moment, there's no magical equivalent of a non-magical university. Magic seems to have mainly been a solitary pursuit for those who continue research past school age. I've kept up my studies, particularly in arithmancy and charms, but nothing formal. And occlumency has certainly helped me keep a calm mind through three years of pretty intensive study."

Harry nodded in understanding. "Thanks for explaining that, Prof-, er, Sarah," he said, stumbling a little over her name.

"No problems, Harry" replied Chamberlain with a grin. I'll see you on Monday."

**OoOoO**

Coming out of the Mind Arts classroom, Harry bumped into Neville emerging from a classroom labelled "Spellcraft", which was the final subject that Harry was considering for his summer work. Before he could go in, though, Neville was followed out by an elderly witch, who stuck a "back in half an hour" notice on the door, complete with an animated clockface which began to count down from 30 minutes.

"Sorry, son," she apologised to Harry. "I've got a meeting with the Headmistress in five minutes. I shouldn't be too long, though."

"That's fine," said Harry. "I'll come back later."

He turned to Neville as the witch hurried off. "So, did spellcraft sound interesting?"

"Definitely," replied Neville enthusiastically. "I only really went in to find out what it actually involved, but it sounds really fascinating. To be honest, I'm really regretting taking Divination at Hogwarts. Runes or Arithmancy would have been much more useful."

"You're preaching to the converted, Nev," agreed Harry. "I'm dropping Divination and Care next year, and am going to try and catch up in Runes and Arithmancy instead."

"I hadn't thought of that," said Neville. "But it's not a bad idea. I'll have a word with my Gran, I think, and see what she thinks to the idea."

"So what else are you doing?" asked Harry as they wandered back through the main hall.

"Enchanting sounded really interesting, so I think I'll have a go at that," replied Neville. "I reckon you were right about only doing three subjects, so that leaves me with one more. I was thinking of something Herbology related, so I want to find the Herbology professor, but now I'm not so sure. I'll still be working in my greenhouses over the summer, so I might try something else completely different for my third subject."

Harry nodded. "I'm doing warding, that sounded really interesting, and I've just been talking to the Mind Arts teacher, and Occlumency sounds like it might be useful. She said that it improves concentration and focus."

"Really?" said Neville with interest. "My concentration has never been brilliant, and I've always been pretty forgetful, too. If Occlumency can help with that, well, it can only be a good thing."

As they were talking, Harry and Neville had been following arrows labelled "Natural History" and now found themselves outdoors in a garden which seemed to surround the school in a strip around 50 yards wide. The school was nestled in the foothills of a mountain range, and once past the garden strip the land began to rise almost immediately. It was a clear day, and despite it being summer Harry could see that the peaks of the mountains were still snow-capped.

Neville was also staring at the scenery as the two walked through the gardens, still following the arrows, which were apparently directing them to a series of large greenhouses, built in a chain, rising as they got further away from the school. He nudged Harry. "What kind of birds are they?" he asked, pointing to several indistinct shapes that were circling high in the sky above a small lake that looked to be around a mile away, lower down the foothills.

Harry followed Neville's finger, and squinted as one of the shapes broke away from the others and began to glide towards them. It was very large for a bird, Harry mused as the shape got closer. The wingspan looked huge, and the forked tail trailing behind it was twice as long as the body. "Forked tail?" thought Harry in confusion, before the reality of what he was seeing hit him.

Neville had clearly come to the same conclusion, since his and Harry's yells of "It's a dragon!" were in concert.

Looking round desperately as the dragon came closer, Harry saw that he and Neville were more than halfway to the first greenhouse. Neville had realised it too and the two of them broke into a run, heading for the greenhouse door that was directly in front of them. Harry pulled his wand out of his jeans, aimed, and yelled "_accio_ door". With a metallic screech the door was pulled out of its frame and headed directly towards them. Fortunately Neville had also pulled out his wand and, with a cry of "_depulso_", banished it away to the side. Harry reached the opening slightly ahead of Neville and threw himself inside, scrabbling sideways to take cover behind what looked like a large palm growing just to the right of the door. Neville went left behind a similar palm.

All Harry could hear was his and Neville's panting breaths. He cautiously peered around the trunk of his palm, expecting to see and hear the dragon crashing through the greenhouse at any moment. But there was no sign of any movement from the entrance. He could see Neville peering out from behind his own refuge, and the two of them exchanged a puzzled look at the absence of a draconic attack.

"A-hem," came a cough from the other side of Harry's palm. He froze, before crawling slowly around the trunk to see a young man in plant-stained overalls watching him.

"Is there any particular reason that you decided to vandalise my greenhouse?" asked the man, a distinct edge to his voice.

"Get down!" hissed Neville urgently. "There's a dragon out there!"

The man raised an eyebrow. "There are, I believe, forty seven dragons out there. We are, after all, in the middle of a dragon reservation. I'll ask again. Is there any particular reason that you decided to vandalise my greenhouse?"

Harry's jaw dropped. A dragon reservation? He turned to Neville, who looked as dumbfounded as he was, before turning back to the man. "Er, we didn't know we were in a dragon reservation," he said sheepishly. "We saw a dragon flying towards us and this was the closest shelter. I pulled the door off its hinges to save time getting to safety. Sorry."

Neville was nodding his agreement. "No-one told us we were in a dragon reservation. We just saw it and ran."

The man shook his head. "I didn't think I recognised you as Dee students. You're here for the open day, I presume?"

Harry and Neville both nodded, although both were still peering anxiously towards the entrance.

"How do you stop the dragons from attacking the school?" asked Neville, voicing the question before Harry could.

"Very strong wards," came the reply. "All of the school buildings, the grounds and the sports pitches are warded against dragons."

Harry and Neville both rose rather sheepishly to their feet. Moving to the doorway, they could see that their erstwhile 'attacker' had wheeled away from the greenhouse and, hitting a thermal, was rising back towards the other dragons still circling above the lake.

"They're curious beasts," commented the man, who Harry assumed was one of the teaching staff, "but quite intelligent, too. They know the wards are there, but it doesn't stop them investigating movement on the ground."

"What kind of wards are there? And how, exactly, would they stop a dragon flying towards them at full speed?" asked Harry, even more impressed with the idea of warding as a subject if they could protect a school from dozens of dragons.

The teacher shrugged. "Wards aren't really my thing," he confessed. "If you're interested you should speak to Jack Reynolds, he teaches about them and is one of the people who raised and maintains the Dee's wards."

Harry nodded, and turned his attention from the sky to the earth. He could see the greenhouse door lying around fifty yards further down the slope to the side of the greenhouse. With an "_accio_" he summoned it back, leaning it up against its frame. A swift "_reparo_" and the door was set back in place.

"Thank you," said the teacher. "Now, is there any other reason for you to be in my greenhouse, aside from the whole dragon escape thing?"

"I was looking for the Herbology professor," said Neville. "I wanted to see what kind of projects I might be able to do over the summer."

The teacher nodded. "We don't teach Herbology as such at the Dee," he said. "We do, though, teach biology, ecology and environmental sciences. We also run a horticultural research station for the Ministry of Agriculture, as well as a magical equivalent. Do you have much experience of the subject?"

"I'm not actually sure what a lot of the subjects you just mentioned are," confessed Neville. "But in general, if it's a plant then I can deal with it."

Annoyed at the teacher's sceptical expression, Harry jumped in to support his friend. "I've never seen Neville come off worst in a fight with a plant," he said, remembering five years' worth of shared lessons in the Hogwarts greenhouses. "I was once attacked by three venomous tentaculars in our High Security greenhouse and Neville managed to get me away from them with hardly a scratch. Well, he didn't have a scratch," admitted Harry ruefully, "I spent a week in the Hospital Wing and had to have four pods removed by a specialist from St Mungo's, but that wasn't Neville's fault. Even Professor Sprout said she couldn't have done any better."

The teacher's eyes had widened as Harry's anecdote had unfolded. "You're Hogwarts students! And you're taught by Pomona Sprout herself?" he queried eagerly.

Harry and Neville both nodded warily at the teacher's sudden enthusiasm.

"Fantastic! She's been a hero of mine ever since I was a student myself and I've always wanted to meet her! The things she's done, the expeditions, the discoveries, the adventures!"

"Adventures?" mouthed Harry to Neville, who shrugged, obviously as bewildered as Harry at this change in the conversation.

"I'd always thought of biology and horticulture as, well, boring," admitted the teacher. "Then I read "Tribe of Death", about Madam Sprout's first expedition to track down the man-eating Bolivian sun tree. Savage natives, international drug dealers, a colony of acromantulas. And that was before they were chased for fifteen miles through the jungle by a copse of carnivorous trees! After that I never looked back."

Harry was feeling extremely confused. Judging by the expression on Neville's face he wasn't the only one. He gingerly raised his hand, attracting the attention of the teacher, who was still marvelling over the jungle exploits of Professor Sprout.

"Er, are we talking about the same person, sir?" he asked. "Only, well, I've never heard any of that about Professor Sprout." He looked over at Neville. "Have you?"

"Well," said Neville, "Professor Sprout has told me a bit about her expeditions. She goes abroad most summers, looking for new plants. And she did eventually track down the sun tree – that would have been the summer after our second year. She brought some newly-sprouted seedlings back and the saplings are in the Restricted greenhouse. I was in there last week and helped her to check the restraints on the roots – they're getting to the age where they should start walking, and she didn't want them escaping. But she never mentioned any of the other stuff. She did say that her first expedition, in the late 70s, was a failure, but that was all."

"You've actually worked on a sun tree sapling?" asked the teacher reverently. "They must be about three years old, now – has the mouth cavity begun to develop?"

"Not yet," replied Neville. "But there are several knot-holes that look promising. When we go back in the autumn she's going to let me try feeding them – Hagrid said he could get me some fresh blood whenever I wanted it – to see if I can get a reaction."

The teacher was now ignoring Harry completely. He reached out, grabbed Neville's hand and shook it enthusiastically. "My name's Phil Travis," he said. "I'm head of the 'flora' section of the Dee's Natural History department. I'm still stocking up the magical sections of our greenhouses, and we haven't got anything nearly as interesting as the sun tree. Or the venomous tentacular. I've always wanted to see a tentacular," he finished, wistfully."

"You say that now," muttered Harry. "You wouldn't be so keen if several of them had tried to use you as an incubator for their seed pods. Their very large, very spiny, very covered in hallucinogenic chemicals seed pods."

Neville and Travis both winced. "Yes, well, I imagine that would be quite an uncomfortable experience," admitted Travis. "But still, to walk into a greenhouse and see a forest of eight-foot tentacles waving gently," he trailed off, a dreamy expression on his face.

Travis, Harry decided, felt the same way about plants as Hagrid felt about animals; the deadlier the better. He was rather worried, though, to see that Neville had the same expression on his face. And even more worried at Neville's next words.

"The Hogwarts tentaculars have been thriving in the last few years," he told Travis. "Professor Sprout gave me some mature seed pods before we left for the summer, and I was going to try to germinate them in my own greenhouse this summer. I've got six pods. Would you like to have three of them? They're supposed to be quite tricky to germinate, and this way we could try different conditions and compare notes?"

Travis's jaw dropped. "You've really got some pods? And you'd let me have some?"

Neville nodded.

"Yes!" exclaimed Travis. "I'd love to try to germinate them. Were you looking at this as one of your projects for the summer school?"

"Well, I was," admitted Neville. "But to be honest there are other subjects that I'd never get the chance to study at Hogwarts that I think I'd rather do instead. So I don't think I'm going to sign up for a formal herbology course. I spend most of my spare time in my greenhouse anyway," he admitted ruefully.

"Oh, that's fine," said Travis. "There's probably not much I can teach one of Madam Sprout's students anyway, especially since our greenhouses are nowhere near as established as those at Hogwarts. But give me ten years!" he proclaimed, a slightly manic look in his eye.

Half an hour later, after Travis had given Harry and Neville a full tour of the greenhouse complex, Harry could well believe that Hogwarts' supremacy in the herbology field might indeed be challenged in the future. He had been right about Travis's obsession with the deadlier end of the horticultural spectrum, but the man clearly knew his plants and even Neville had looked impressed at several of the specimens.

"I'll bring you the tentacular pods in next week," promised Neville as they bade Travis farewell back at the entrance to the first greenhouse. He looked around, and dropped his voice. "Professor Sprout let me have a few other things, too," he whispered. "I'll bring a few examples, there are some things that I think will do well here, if we can manage to get them established."

Travis clearly relished the chance to pit his wits against the more vicious subjects of the plant kingdom, and Harry had to almost physically drag Neville away from the greenhouses back towards the school. He was still chattering happily about Madagascan flame orchids ("seriously, Harry, some of the bigger examples can blow jets of fire up to 20 feet") as they arrived back at the main Hall.

Tables had been set up down the length of the Hall, and were groaning under the weight of an enormous buffet lunch, a queue for which was forming at one end of the room. Harry and Neville joined it and were soon carrying laden plates away from the spread. Harry spotted Hermione sitting on her own at one table, and he and Neville headed over to join her.

"Having fun?" asked Harry, as he plopped down beside her.

"Oh yes," said Hermione, clearly bubbling with enthusiasm. "This place is brilliant! The teachers all seem really knowledgeable, and everyone I've talked to says how good a school it is."

"So what subjects are you going to take?" asked Neville. "Have you decided yet?"

"I still have a few teachers to visit," admitted Hermione, "but there are so many choices! I'm definitely going to do an arithmancy project on the power of spells and wizards, and I was thinking about Enchanting, but Spellcraft was really interesting, too, which would fit in with arithmancy. I also spoke to the Ritual Magic teacher, and she was telling me about a joint project they're going to work on, to try and recreate some of the old pre-wand protection rituals. What about you two?" she asked.

"I've already signed up for Warding," Harry told her, "although a lot of that is going to be trying to catch up as far as I can on Arithmancy and Ancient Runes."

"What do you mean, 'catch up'?" asked Hermione. "You don't take those subjects."

"I do now," said Harry, "or rather, I will. Whatever the OWL results I've decided to drop Divination and Care of Magical Creatures and switch to Runes and Arithmancy, and just see haw far I can get in the two years we've got left at Hogwarts. Hopefully I'll be able to take OWLs in them by the end of seventh year. Dr Reynolds thinks that if I work hard I should be able to cover all of the third year material for those subjects over the summer."

Hermione was beaming by the time he'd finished his explanation. "That's wonderful, Harry," she exclaimed happily. "They're both fascinating subjects and I'm sure you'll do well. If you want any help, just let me know."

"You'll be getting nightly visits from Hedwig," said Harry with a grin. "I've signed up for Mind Arts, too. I'm going to learn Occlumency, and the teacher's also going to look into some of the weird reactions I get from my scar – she doesn't think Occlumency will help with those but she said it will improve concentration and focus and help with spellcasting."

"Really?" said Hermione, clearly interested. "How much of an effect does it have? And what's she going to do about your scar?"

"I don't know, and I don't know," replied Harry. I'm having my first lesson on Monday, though, so I'll find out more then.

The Hall was filling up, and Daphne and Mandeep pulled chairs up to Harry's table. The teenagers spent a happy half hour telling each other what they'd been up to ("What is it with you and dragons?" Harry was asked by several people) and what subjects they were considering.

The Headmistress had returned to the dais at the front of the Hall, and once again called for silence.

"I hope that you've all had productive mornings," she began. "You still have time this afternoon to talk to the teachers of those subjects in which you are interested, but the School Bus will leave the Academy promptly at 5pm. Our Bursar and our Secretary will be in the main Hall all afternoon to take in your completed application forms and accept your course fees." She pointed to a desk set up by the main entrance to the Hall, behind which two young men were stationed. "Enjoy the rest of your day."

Conversation started up again. Luna was recounting her visit to the 'fauna' section of the Academy's Natural History department, which reminded Harry of his role as recruiter for August's 'Beast of Bodmin' expedition. Luna's story had prompted most of those listening to push away any unfinished lunch plates and Harry certainly wasn't regretting not having seen the 'fauna' section. Luna had apparently spent the morning helping the Academy's resident vet deliver a pair of manticore twins and although she had clearly enjoyed herself, her tale of being up to her elbow up the back-end of what was essentially a lion, untangling wings, was not helping his appetite. He coughed to attract attention to himself.

"Speaking of dangerous creatures," he began, "or rather, potentially dangerous creatures, have any of you heard of the Beast of Bodmin?"

Harry received several interested looks. "It's a mysterious big cat, isn't it?" asked Justin. "Lurks around Bodmin Moor, if you believe the sightings." He brightened. "Is it real?"

"Probably not," said Hermione repressively, casting a disapproving glance at Harry. "If it was, someone would have proved it by now. It's most likely a hoax, or series of hoaxes, to boost the Cornish tourist industry."

"That's the sceptical view," admitted Harry, "although I spoke to a witch yesterday who grew up on the edge of the Moor and she said that there have been mysterious things going on there for over a hundred years and that they could be magical, which might explain why the Beast is so elusive. But real or not," he continued hastily, seeing the expression on Hermione's face, "a group that my cousin is involved with are mounting a bit of an expedition in August to see if they can track down the Beast. They're taking it seriously, but not too seriously, and it's an opportunity for a bit of a holiday. I'm going to go along, and so's my cousin, and," he added, catching Luna's eye and receiving an affirmative nod, "so's Luna. I said that I might be able to rustle up some more volunteers, and wondered if any of you were interested. A bit of a holiday and a bit of Beast hunting before we all go back to school in September."

From the babble of questions that were immediately directed at him, Harry gathered that there was quite a bit of interest in the Beast hunt. He held up a hand for silence.

"The plan is to stay on a caravan site on the edge of Bodmin Moor that's owned by the group leader's uncle," Harry explained. "We'll be there for two weeks in the middle of August. They know that anyone I bring will have studying to do, but the more people who come, the better the chance they think they have of finding something, if there's something to find."

"How much would it cost?" asked Dean.

"The caravans are £100 per week, and they sleep six," replied Harry. "That's 20 galleons," he added for the benefit of the wizard-born. "There's twenty five caravans available, and you can decide among yourselves who you share with, and how many you want in your caravan. So if there's four of you, that'd be £200 for the fortnight between you, £50 each. Or 40 galleons for the fortnight, 10 galleons each, in wizarding money."

"And who's going to be supervising this expedition?" asked Hermione, still looking rather disapproving. "Are you sure you can manage to avoid mentioning magic, especially if you have people who don't know much about the muggle world?"

"Well, the leader of the group doesn't know about magic," admitted Harry. "But his girlfriend does. Penny Clearwater, she was Head Girl when we were third years, remember?"

Harry stifled a grin at the rather conflicted look on Hermione's face. She was obviously dubious about both the aims and the organisation of the expedition, but finding out that a past Head Girl was at least partly responsible for it made it difficult for her to criticise it.

"Well, Penelope will probably ensure that everything goes OK," Hermione admitted grudgingly. "But I still don't think you'll find anything."

"So what?" said Dean. "It's a holiday! If the Beast of Bodmin's magical we'll probably have as good a chance as anyone of finding it and if we don't, we'll have a good time trying! I'm in!"

"Me too," called Seamus.

Other voices were enthusiastically chiming in, and Harry raised his hand again.

"Listen, I need to confirm numbers with Pete Collins, the group leader, on Friday. I know that some of you might need to check with your parents, so let me know by Friday morning if you're definitely coming, and who you want to share caravans with, so I know how many I need to tell Pete to reserve."

Harry stepped back as the group members began to discuss the trip, and potential caravan-mates. There was a sudden smell of burning and a muffled scream and as the crowd parted Harry saw that Justin was trying desperately to pat out a small fire that had apparently started in his jeans. He ran towards the bathrooms, followed by a yell of "I wouldn't share a caravan with you if you were last man on earth!" from Padma Patil. The pretty Indian witch turned towards Harry, twirling her wand smugly, and he wasn't the only one in the crowd who moved his hands in front of himself protectively."

"I think that, for us at least, the caravans should be single-sex only," said Harry, nervously eyeing Padma's wand.

"Good plan," said Padma approvingly, before turning away to resume a conversation with several of her Ravenclaw housemates.

"Do you think Justin will live through the summer?" asked Daphne rhetorically as she as Tracey moved over to where Harry and Hermione were stood. "Hermione, are you planning on joining Harry's expedition?"

Hermione looked torn. She obviously didn't believe in the existence of the Beast, but Harry knew that she had been as much of a loner at school as him and Luna, and had never really made many friends outside of him, Neville and the Weasleys. He realised that she might be hesitating for the same reasons as Luna, who he saw was standing slightly apart from the rest of the crowd.

"Hermione," said Harry in a low voice, "one reason I suggested this was because Luna wanted to come, but I don't think she's really got any friends to invite or to share a caravan with. If you do decide to come, would you mind sharing a caravan with her? I know you don't always see eye to eye with her, but I think she's just lonely, and this trip might bring her out of her shell a bit."

Daphne smiled, caught Luna's eye and beckoned her over. Luna looked faintly surprised, but as she approached the little group Harry could see that she had a hopeful look on her face.

"Luna, have you got anyone to share a caravan with, yet?" asked Daphne. "Tracey and I will be sharing, but I want to get to know some of Harry's friends a bit better over the summer. I think four is enough to share a caravan, so would you and Hermione like to share with us?"

A rather incredulous smile broke out on Luna's face. "Really?" she asked, and at Daphne's encouraging nod said: "Yes, please, I'd love to share with you." She turned to Hermione, who was smiling herself at Luna's obvious pleasure at the invitation.

"Hermione?" prompted Daphne.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes, I'll come, and would like to share with the three of you. Thank you."

Harry pulled out a notebook and pen and quickly wrote down their names. "I'm not sure when Pete's uncle will want paying, but I'll check with him on Friday and let you know, " he told the girls. "Now come on, there's not long left to make up our minds about our course choices. I'm off to Spellcraft, anyone coming?"

**OoOoO**

The small group that approached the Spellcraft classroom consisted of Harry, Blaise, Padma Patil and Michael Corner. Both of the Ravenclaws studied arithmancy at Hogwarts, unlike Harry and Blaise, and were interested in more advanced spell analysis and research than was included in the Hogwarts curriculum. Blaise, like Harry, had simply been fascinated by the discussion in Dr Reynolds' classroom earlier about the systematic measurement of magic.

The old witch that Harry had seen earlier was waiting in the classroom, and after introducing herself as Madam Carstairs quickly ascertained the prior knowledge of the four prospective students.

"Spellcraft is a complex field," she began. "It is an analytical discipline, and is geared more towards the deconstruction, rather than the creation, of spells. The casting of a new spell for the first time is extremely difficult, and the knowledge of the thauments which are expected to build up the spell, and the rune to be used as the wand movement are essential to establish prior to the cast."

"Why is that?" asked Blaise. "This morning, Dr Reynolds told us that magic was simply a wizard wishing for an effect. I would have thought it was just a case of concentrating on the desired result until the spell works."

Madam Carstairs smiled. "And what happens when, in a month's time, you still haven't managed to cast your spell?" she asked.

Blaise looked rather sheepish. "You need to know what the expected thauments are to work out if it's theoretically possible to cast it," he admitted. "But Dr Reynolds said that there was no effective way of measuring the strength of a wizard, even if we can now measure the power needed to cast a spell."

"That's true," agreed Carstairs. "And that's why spell development can be extremely frustrating. You can convincingly theorise what the thauments of a spell should be, you know that they are similar to the thauments of an existing spell, one which you are yourself able to cast successfully, and you have also postulated a favourable rune to use as the wand movement. A runic version of the spell does what you want it to, and yet you cannot cast the spell."

"So what do you do then?" asked Padma, clearly fascinated.

"That depends on your outlook," said Carstairs. "You could carry out further research to try and determine why your cast fails, perhaps involving other wizards and witches to see if they are able to cast the spell, which might indicate that it is the power of the spell which is the problem. You could research whether there might be an emotional component to the spell which you have overlooked. You could base your wand movement on different runes. Any of these might be successful, or at least answer the question why you personally couldn't cast the spell. But often a spell researcher will simply be unable to either cast the spell, or explain the failure."

"That seems like a lot of work for nothing," commented Michael dubiously.

"It is the same in all fields of research," said Carstairs. "Potionmasters do not develop new potions at will. Herbologists are not successful every time they try to develop a new strain of plant. All research involves much more failure than success. But the successes, when they come, make it all worthwhile."

"Can you give us an example of a recent success in spell research?" asked Padma.

"Indeed I can, Miss Patil," replied Carstairs. "One of the Dee's own researchers, Mark Crabtree, has spent much of the last three years attempting to develop a shield against the _cruciatus_ curse. As part of the research he has been comparing the thauments of offensive and defensive spells, theorising that the reason that known shields are ineffective against the _cruciatus_ is that they lack a particular defensive thaument against an offensive thaument unique to the _cruciatus_, even though arithmantic analysis showed that there was no such thaument."

Carstairs paused for breath and Harry, who was intrigued at the notion of a shield against one of the unforgiveable curses, jumped in with a question.

"How would knowing that there was a missing defensive thaument be useful? Is it possible to modify an existing spell simply by concentrating on adding a new thaument to it?"

"No it isn't, or at least, I don't know of anyone who has succeeded in modifying a spell that way. Successful casts are generated by concentration on the desired result, and a result of "a shield that will block the _cruciatus_" is too abstract a concept, since the composition of your opponent's _cruciatus_ is unknown. Mark, though, has succeeded in identifying that the traditional thaument analysis of the _cruciatus_ was wrong; or rather, that it was insufficiently accurate. One of the thauments was actually subtly different from the one listed in the textbooks."

"And?" said Michael, clearly as intrigued as Harry by this tale.

"Spell researchers have never been able to construct a runic shield against the _cruciatus_," explained Carstairs. "Mark's new analysis showed why – it wasn't that the analysis was failing to identify a missing thaument, it was that the analysis was not correctly identifying a known thaument. After six months' work, Mark was able to runically produce a defensive thaument to the actual offensive thaument in the _cruciatus_, and to incorporate that into a runic shield. Two weeks ago he successfully demonstrated that runic shield, and it held up against a _cruciatus_ curse. As a result, we now know that it is possible to shield magically against one of the unforgiveables, even though we have yet to see a successful manually-produced shield."

"But is that really useful, if there's no way to translate a runic shield into a successful manual cast?" asked Harry.

"Magic is all about belief," countered Carstairs. "Up until now, no wizard has really tried particularly hard to produce a magical shield against the _cruciatus_, because it wasn't believed to be possible. Now that we know it's possible, I would suggest that it is only a matter of time before some wizard achieves it. And once they do, it will be repeatable, and teachable."

Buoyed by this example, Harry quickly signed up for Spellcraft, but deferred choosing a summer project until later in the holidays, Madam Carstairs having advised him to first concentrate on the third-year arithmancy textbook that he'd purchased.

"I'll have a word with Dr Reynolds," she told him, "and we'll share the supervision of your arithmancy and runes studies this summer. Make a start on your textbook, and come and see one of us on your next visit to the Dee so that we can discuss how best to monitor your work, and give you some personal tuition."

Harry thanked her, and he and Blaise left the two Ravenclaws to discuss projects with Madam Carstairs, Blaise having decided that, although the subject was interesting, it wasn't one that he would be pursuing over the summer.

"Did you manage to find a pensieve, by the way?" Blaise asked Harry as the two of them made their way back to the main Hall.

"Yes, I did," replied Harry. "Unfortunately I don't actually know how to use it yet. Any ideas?"

"I've never even seen one," Blaise reminded him. "But they're enchanted objects, aren't they? Why not ask the Enchantment professor here how they work?"

Harry mentally kicked himself. "Good idea," he admitted ruefully, scanning the nearest sign for directions and eventually spotting an arrow towards the right classroom. "Coming?"

"Might as well," came the reply. "I've decided on my subjects now, so I've nothing else to do apart from pay my course fees."

**OoOoO**

The two of them quickly located the Enchantment classroom, which contained two of the least likely visitors to the Dee that Harry could imagine – Millicent Bulstrode and Gregory Goyle who, with the teacher, were all bent over a desk peering closely at a broomstick. All three turned as Harry and Blaise entered.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," said the teacher. "I'm Ambrose Pearce. We're just discussing broomstick charms, if you want to join us – brooms are as good an introduction as anything to the field of enchanting."

On recognising Harry, both Bulstrode and Goyle had straightened up, and they were now watching him warily, a wariness that Harry returned. Pearce quickly picked up on the tense atmosphere as Goyle moved almost protectively in front of Bulstrode.

"This is a classroom, people," he warned. "I don't know what problems exist between you, but the Dee doesn't tolerate antagonism between pupils."

Harry relaxed slightly. "It's OK, sir," he said. "There were some tensions between different groups at Hogwarts this year, but I'm here to study, nothing else. I'm not looking to cause trouble."

Pearce nodded, as Bulstrode elbowed Goyle aside and faced Harry. She took a deep breath.

"Potter, I apologise for my behaviour this year. I did several things I regret. I had my reasons but, even so, I shouldn't have been swayed by Malfoy and Umbridge to the extent that I was." The expression on her face as she spat Umbridge's name left Harry in no doubt as to her feelings towards the former High Inquisitor.

Harry considered Bulstrode's apology. She had been a member of the Inquisitorial Squad, but then so had a lot of Slytherins. With the benefit of hindsight and having had his attention drawn to the tensions within the house, he could see that most of the Squad had been going through the motions. Malfoy was the only one who had really exploited his position. It was only at the final confrontation with Umbridge that there had been any direct confrontation between Harry and most of the Squad. He had a sudden thought.

"How, exactly, did four of my friends manage to escape from the whole Inquisitorial Squad that day?" he asked. "Especially since they were pretty well restrained when Hermione and I left, and none of them had their wands."

Bulstrode shrugged. "I couldn't really say. It all happened very quickly."

Harry shook his head, fairly sure that his friends' escape had not been entirely down to their own efforts. "Apology accepted," he told Bulstrode.

"Keep an eye on Malfoy and Warrington," Bulstrode replied. She gave Goyle a long look and, when he nodded, continued "and Crabbe."

Harry's eyes widened fractionally as he considered the import of Bulstrode's warning; Malfoy was no surprise and while he hadn't had much to do with Warrington outside of quidditch, the Slytherin's obvious delight at his threatened torture by Umbridge hadn't gone unnoticed. What was surprising was the apparent 'defection' of one of the two people who seemed to have been inseparable from Malfoy for their entire Hogwarts careers.

Pearce had been observing the conversation between Harry and Bulstrode with interest. "Well," he commented wryly, "Hogwarts certainly seems to be an interesting school. But back to enchanting; are the two of you interested in the subject?"

"Er, yes, but not to study this summer," confessed Harry. "I've already signed up for three courses, and I think that's enough. I actually wanted to ask you a question about a particular enchanted object."

Pearce nodded in encouragement. "OK, ask away!"

"Well," Harry began, "I've recently acquired a pensieve, but I don't know how to use it. Or rather, I know how it can be used, and I've seen memories in one several times, but they were other people's memories. I don't know how to extract my own, and I wondered if you could explain how it's done?"

Pearce looked rather sceptical. "Pensieves are some of the rarest and most valuable magical artifacts in existence," he told Harry. "I spent some time in the 80s researching the subject for the "Enchanter's Journal", and to the best of my knowledge there are only two pensieves in the country, and fewer than a dozen in the whole of Europe. Only two of those are in private hands. Albus Dumbledore owns the Avalon pensieve and Gerhard von Stieffenbach owns the Salian pensieve. The rest are owned by various European Ministries including our own, which holds the Absalom pensieve. I would be interested to know which pensieve you believe you own."

Harry was becoming tired of being disbelieved at every turn and wished that there was some dramatic way in which he could demonstrate the truth of his claim. His pensieve, though, was back in Surrey and, not yet being able to apparate, he couldn't simply pop home to fetch it. That train of thought, though, gave him an idea, although he would look rather foolish if it didn't work.

He took a deep breath and, speaking firmly, said "Dobby!"

There was a pause, as Pearce and the students considered Harry's apparent non-sequitur in obvious puzzlement.

Just as Harry was beginning to accept that his idea had failed there was a faint pop, and a small, greyish-green figure appeared and looked around the classroom in surprise, before his gaze alighted on Harry.

"Harry Potter Sir calls for Dobby!" exclaimed the excitable house-elf. "Harry Potter Sir is great wizard! But where is we?"

Harry smiled, both in relief and at the expressions of surprise on the faces of the others. Dobby was a very colourful sight. He was dressed in a plain white pillowcase bearing the Hogwarts crest, which was usual for Hogwarts elves. He was also, though, wearing a pair of mis-matched socks, one orange and one yellow, and had several more socks tied together and looped around him like a crude bandolier. Harry grinned. The little elf's dress sense never ceased to amaze him.

"We are in Wales, Dobby, at the Dee Academy," Harry told the elf. "I called for you to see if you could run an errand for me. I'll pay you, of course."

"Harry Potter Sir is offering Dobby work! And he offers to pay Dobby! Harry Potter is truly magnificent wizard. Dobby will run errand, and will charge 1 knut."

Harry flushed at Dobby's fulsome praise, but felt obliged to protest at the price. "You should ask what the errand is, first, Dobby," he told him, "and then set your price. It might be a big errand that you can charge more money for. A knut isn't very much."

Dobby nodded enthusiastically. "Dobby asks what the errand is, Harry Potter Sir".

"Can you go to my uncle's house, and transport a large stone basin and its pedestal from my bedroom to here at the Dee Academy?" asked Harry. "It looks quite heavy, and I'm not sure whether you can move something that large."

"Dobby is strong, Harry Potter Sir," proclaimed the elf. "Dobby will fetch." He disappeared with another pop.

"That's a very peculiar elf," commented Blaise into the silence. "Is he the one you managed to free from Lucius Malfoy? Draco spent most of third year complaining about that."

"Yes," admitted Harry. "He likes being free, and works at Hogwarts now, but he seems to like me so I thought I'd see if he'd respond if I called him."

There was another pop and Dobby reappeared, along with Harry's pensieve. The elf leaned against the pedestal for a moment, obviously catching his breath, before looking up and quickly assuming his characteristic manic air. "Dobby brings the stone things," he said proudly. "That will be 1 knut, Harry Potter Sir."

Shaking his head, Harry reached into a pocket and pulled out several sickles. "We need to have a talk at some point about how to properly value your work," Harry told him sternly as he handed the coins over. "I'm not sure that this is enough."

"It is more than enough," insisted Dobby. "Dobby is not working hard enough at Hogwarts, there is no pupils to look after. This is break for Dobby."

An idea flashed into Harry's head. Elves, he realised, could come in very handy on the August Beast hunt. "Dobby, I might have some more work for you over the summer. If you listen out for me, I'll call for you in a few days and we can discuss things. OK?"

At the prospect of more work, Dobby was almost vibrating in excitement. "Dobby will listen, Harry Potter Sir!" he promised, and disappeared with a final pop that Harry thought sounded distinctly enthusiastic.

Ignoring Blaise's grin, Harry turned to Pearce, only to see him staring at the pensieve with an almost comical look of amazement on his face. He moved towards it slowly and reached out a hand, although he didn't actually touch it.

"It's the Rhadamanthus pensieve," he breathed reverently.

Harry nodded. "So I understand," he said. "You said you knew where all the pensieves in Europe were. Where did you think that this one was?"

Forcing his gaze away from the pensieve, Pearce focused on Harry. "I didn't," he said, rather cryptically. "I mean, the Rhadamanthus pensieve is what I would call a "lost" pensieve; that is, one where we have historical references but nothing definite enough to say for sure that it really exists, or existed, or if it is actually a description, or mis-description, of a known pensieve. There are a couple of references to it, by name, in an early 19th century work by Beauregard Hallsworthy, and another which includes a description in a late 18th century anonymous work on mind arts. The description, if accurate, was unique enough to suggest that it wasn't referring to any known pensieve, but there are no subsequent references to it anywhere."

Pearce took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Mr Potter, I'm rambling," he admitted. "But if you don't mind me asking, how did you come to acquire this magnificent item?"

Harry shrugged. "It was my grandfather's," he told Pearce. "It's a family heirloom, I suppose – it's apparently named after one of my ancestors, Rhadamanthus Potter, who was an enchanter in the 18th century."

"I wondered where the name came from," admitted Pearce. "It never occurred to me that it might be someone's christian name."

"It wouldn't have occurred to me, either," said Harry with a grin. "Thankfully my parents didn't go in for the weird naming traditions that seem to infest the wizarding world."

Pearce turned back to the pensieve and was quickly lost in contemplation. Harry coughed to reattract his attention.

"So, sir, could you explain how to use the pensieve," he prompted.

"What? Oh, well, I'm afraid it's not a straight-forward matter," said Pearce, once again forcing his gaze away from the pensieve. "All pensieves seem to be unique. None of the known ones that I've studied or seen pictures or descriptions of are the same; in some cases there are very significant differences."

Pearce was now moving around the pensieve, studying the runes on it and its pedestal. "There are some runes on here that I don't even recognise."

Harry sighed. He might have known that it wouldn't be that easy. "From what I've seen of Professor Dumbledore's pensieve, I thought that you just had to extract a memory, put it in the bowl and dive in. Or fall in accidentally," he concluded ruefully.

"Dive in?" said Pearce in confusion. "What do you mean, "dive in"?"

"To watch the memory," replied Harry, equally confused. "With Professor Dumbledore's I accidentally fell into it and found myself in the Wizangamot chamber in 1982, watching a Death Eater trial. Until the Professor came in after me, I didn't know what had happened."

Pearce's jaw had dropped in shock. "You mean that the Avalon pensieve is capable of full immersion? I had thought that such a capability was a myth!"

Blaise had been following the conversation with interest. "So how do pensieves usually work?" he asked.

"Well, like a film projector," explained Pearce. "I've seen the Al-Khwarizmi pensieve, which is in the possession of the Spanish Ministry of Magic, in use. It projects the memory, from the point of view of the person who provided it, as a 2-dimensional image, about four feet square, onto a blank surface like a projector screen."

"That sounds fairly basic, compared to Dumbledore's," commented Blaise.

"Indeed," agreed Pearce. "To be fair, the Al-Khwarizmi pensieve is one of the earliest known. Even if it didn't belong to Al-Khwarizmi himself, it dates from the ninth century. It's more than likely that later enchanters improved on that model."

He turned back to Harry's pensieve. "This pensieve was created nine hundred years after the Al-Khwarizmi pensieve, so it is very likely that it has far more capabilities."

"But how would we know?" asked Harry.

"Detailed study, of course!" exclaimed Pearce. "We need to establish what all of the runes are, what clusters each rune is part of, and the function of each cluster, alone and in combination. From that, we should be able to piece together the pensieve's capabilities, and then it's just a matter of experimentation to master its operation."

Blaise coughed. "Or perhaps Harry's grandfather might have left notes on its operation, or might even have Rhadamanthus Potter's original notes, which would explain everything?"

Pearce looked at Harry, who shrugged. "There might be notes in my grandfather's house, I don't know. I'd have to ask my solicitor; the house has been under heavy wards since my grandparents died and I'm not sure exactly who has access."

Pearce brightened. "Well, let me make you a proposal, Mr Potter. I have a number of post-graduate students who would fall over themselves to be involved in a research project involving a pensieve. Would you consider leaving it here over the summer? I can ask Jack Reynolds to put heavy protection wards on one of our classrooms, so there'd be no danger of theft, and it would be only accessed by me or my students under strict supervision. In three months I'd hope that we'd have a pretty good idea of what it can do, and how."

Harry considered Pearce's offer. Without knowing how to use the pensieve it was only taking up space at Privet Drive. Having it researched properly would certainly help him in the long-term. And even if it did turn out that his grandfather had notes on it, he would still have access to it, given how much time he was planning on spending at the Dee over the summer.

"OK," Harry decided. "As long as you look after it properly I'm happy to leave it here over the summer. But I'll see if I can track down anything my grandfather had on its operation as well. If I find anything, do you want to see it, or should I hold it back until you've reached your own conclusions?"

"Hold it back," answered Pearce promptly. "That way, no-one involved will have any preconceptions. Thank you Mr Potter."

"No problem," said Harry. "Although if I do find out how to use it, I would want to have access to it during the summer."

Pearce nodded. "Of course. But even if you do find operating instructions, I don't think you'll be able to use it immediately."

Harry looked at him questioningly.

"Are you an occlumens?" asked Pearce.

"No," admitted Harry. "But I've signed up for occlumency lessons this summer with Sarah Chamberlain. Why?"

"Because as I understand it, you need a good practical knowledge of occlumency in order to be able to remove memories to use in a pensieve," explained Pearce. "You need the mental discipline to isolate specific memories prior to extraction. You might want to get Miss Chamberlain to include that in your lessons."

"I will," promised Harry. Since first seeing Dumbledore's pensieve he had occasionally wondered why such a useful device was not more common. He now had two reasons; the apparent difficulty in creating them and now the obvious difficulty that very few people could actually use them anyway. He just hoped that he would be able to master occlumency to the extent needed to use one himself.

Harry thanked Pearce for his time, and he and Blaise watched as Pearce chalked a double circle around the pensieve, filling the space between the circles with an assortment of runes. He then took a small knife from his pocket, sliced the ball of his thumb and allowed a drop of blood to fall on one of the runes. With a sizzle that made Harry's hair stand on end, a silvery barrier shimmered into life around the pensieve.

"There," said Pearce. "That will be sufficient until I can find Dr Reynolds and get him to ward a classroom."

Harry was becoming more and more impressed with the uses to which warding could be put. As, by his expression, was Blaise. In contrast Bulstrode and Goyle had gone back to studying the broomstick, clearly uninterested in the pensieve or warding. Each to his own, Harry supposed. Still, he and Blaise called their goodbyes to the two and left them to it.

**OoOoO**

Back in the Main Hall Harry saw that students had begun to congregate around the tables near the entrance, ready to pay their course fees. Blaise (warding, ritual magic and duelling) joined the queue while Harry moved into the main body of the Hall looking for other Hogwarts students.

Hannah was the first to approach. "Are you still happy to loan us the course fees?" she asked tentatively.

"Of course," said Harry, pulling out one of the apparently bottomless pouches that he'd found in his Gringotts vault. "How much do you need?"

Several of his other friends also approached Harry, and he ended up disbursing 500 galleons worth of loans. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Blaise apparently arguing with Bulstrode and Goyle while gesturing in his direction. He turned in time to see Blaise grab each of them by the arm and drag them towards him, no mean feat as neither of the Slytherins were exactly lightweights.

"Harry," said Blaise as the three of them drew near. "Your offer to lend the course fees to anyone who couldn't afford them. Was that a universal offer?"

"Yes," said Harry warily. His gaze flickered between Bulstrode and Goyle. "Do you two want to borrow some galleons? What are you planning on studying?"

"I'm OK, Potter," said Bulstrode, sounding rather subdued. "I only want to study enchanting, and my dad's given me the course fees."

Harry looked at Goyle, who was looking at the floor and seemed unwilling to speak. Blaise gave an exasperated sigh.

"Greg only came to keep Millicent company and because it keeps him out of his father's way for a day. He knew his parents wouldn't give him the money for course fees even if he asked. He would, though, like to sign up for herbology."

"Herbology?" said Harry in surprise. He had difficulty visualising Goyle as a gardener or, to be honest, as anything other than hired muscle. He winced at the rather Ron-like thought. He needed to stop making assumptions about people before he really knew them. Goyle's reply only emphasised this. At the tone of surprise in Harry's reply he had looked up and was now staring defiantly at him.

"I like Herbology," he said calmly. "Plants don't talk back to you and insult you. Plants don't make you do things you don't want to do. Plants don't curse you for fun. Growing things is peaceful. As long as you look after them, plants will thrive. I like that."

Harry flushed, and felt intensely ashamed of himself. Goyle had actually helped Bulstrode warn him earlier about Malfoy, Crabbe and Warrington, and here he was insulting him (albeit not altogether intentionally) in return.

"I apologise," he told Goyle. "I didn't mean to sound insulting or patronising."

Goyle looked rather surprised, but nodded his acceptance of the apology.

"Well?" said Blaise, looking amused. "Will you lend Greg 50 galleons for a herbology course?"

"Of course," said Harry. "Goyle, er, that is, er, Greg," he stumbled over the Slytherin's name. "I've said to the others that I'll lend them the money for any courses they want to study, and they can pay me back when we leave Hogwarts when we've all got jobs."

Blaise shook his head. "Did you discuss repayment terms? When exactly will they start to repay you? Will it be as a lump sum or instalments? If instalments, over what period? What about interest?"

Harry flushed again. "I never really thought about that," he admitted sheepishly. "I knew that the money I loaned out wasn't that much, compared to what's in my vault. I just thought that it was a good idea to study over the summer and it would be a shame if people didn't come because they couldn't afford it."

Bulstrode gave Harry an assessing look. "The fact that some people couldn't afford it means that, to them at least, it is a lot of money," she told him. Just because it's not much to you doesn't mean that you shouldn't take it seriously. If you act as if it's nothing, people can get the wrong idea. They might think that you're either an easy mark, and try to exploit you, or that you're flaunting your wealth and insulting them in the process."

"No, I wasn't trying to do any of that!" protested Harry, while at the same time marvelling at Bulstrode's sudden (and insightful) verbosity.

"No," agreed Bulstrode, "you weren't. But you should think about the repercussions from your actions nonetheless."

Chagrined, Harry nodded.

"How about this," continued Bulstrode. "Greg will borrow 50 galleons, repayment to be made on the first anniversary of our leaving Hogwarts. If it's not repaid in full by then, interest will be charged from that date at 5% per annum and the amount outstanding will be repaid at a rate of 5 galleons per month until the full amount, including interest, is repaid."

Harry looked at her in amazement, and she had the grace to blush. "I intend to go into business on my own when we leave Hogwarts," she told Harry defensively, "so I've been reading up on business and finance."

"I'm impressed," he told her honestly, before turning to Goyle. "Does that sound OK to you?"

"If Millie says it's OK, I'm happy with that."

Several of the other loan recipients had overheard Bulstrode's offer of terms.

"That sounds fair, Harry," said Hannah, who'd borrowed 100 galleons. "Could I repay you on the same terms?"

The other borrowers echoed her comments, and Harry quickly agreed to the same terms for all of them.

"You should draw up contracts, so it's all formally documented and they all know what they have to do," commented Bulstrode.

Harry wasn't sure that it was necessary, but the borrowers seemed keen, so he quickly agreed, realising that another trip to Flourish & Blotts was in the offing to buy a book on financial agreements.

"Thank you Bul-, er Millicent," Harry told her sincerely, receiving a small smile in reply.

Harry turned to Goyle and pulled out his moneybag, counting out 50 galleons. "Here you go," said. "Although if you do sign up for herbology I think you might be wrong about it being peaceful. I was talking to Mr Travis, the herbology teacher, earlier and his idea of an interesting plant seemed to be one that was capable of chasing you round the greenhouse before ripping you apart and eating you."

Goyle grinned. "I noticed that," he said. "But the plants I want to study are a lot quieter." He jingled the galleons Harry had given him. "Thank you," he said, before heading towards the registration tables.

Nodding to the other students Harry followed him, and was quickly registered for warding, spellcraft and mind arts. As he handed over his galleons, Daphne sidled up to him and snaked an arm around him, before kissing him on the cheek. "That was a nice thing you did for Greg," she told him.

Harry shrugged. "He was pleasant enough to me, and seems to have fallen out with Malfoy and Crabbe," he said. "I always saw Crabbe and Goyle as interchangeable thugs, following Malfoy's every command. That was probably a bit short-sighted of me."

Daphne nodded. "You told me and Tracey that politics in Slytherin had passed you by, and this is another aspect of that. Greg's not as unintelligent as you might think. He knows that he's not magically powerful, so even if he wanted to follow the Dark Lord he'd be no more than a minion. But having heard how the Dark Lord's followers are treated, even the favoured ones, he wants no part in it. All he really wants is to get through Hogwarts, be able to leave his family, who _**are**_ supporters of the Dark Lord, behind and grow plants."

That didn't sound like too bad an ambition to Harry. Over the previous five years he had often dreamed of leaving the wizarding world, and especially his fame, behind in favour of a quiet, normal existence. Although he had become resigned to his celebrity, and was now becoming more enthusiastic about magic and life post-Hogwarts, he could still see the attraction of a quiet life.

While they were talking the final students had registered for their courses, and Harry could see that the Headmistress was heading back to the dais at the front of the Hall. The room quieted and waited for her to speak.

"Thank you all again for your presence at our Open Day today," she began. I am very pleased that so many people have shown enthusiasm for the courses that we are offering over the summer, and have signed up to take their magical education forward. I look forward to seeing all of you again as we go through the summer."

"Not if we see you first!" called a wag good-naturedly from somewhere in the crowd, to general laughter.

"Keep that up, Mr Samuels, and we'll be seeing a lot more of each other than you might be comfortable with," responded the Headmistress with a smile. "But time has passed, and it's almost time to send you all on your way. The School Buses are outside, and the drivers have details of all of your addresses. Simply give them your names as you board your Bus, and we'll have you home in no time."

"For those of you who are yet unable to apparate, the School Buses will be running all summer to get you to and from the Academy. As you leave the Hall you will each be provided with a Bus Pass. To call the School Bus, simply tap it with your wand, and wait for the Bus to arrive."

"So, I hope that you have all enjoyed your day here, and that you will also enjoy the courses you have signed up for over the summer. But, after all, it _**is**_ summer. So don't work too hard!"

The Hall broke into applause for the Headmistress, and immediately began to empty as people headed for the Bus.

**OoOoO**

A line of yellow buses was waiting in the courtyard outside the Dee Academy's main entrance. Harry and Daphne joined the queue and found themselves standing behind Joanne Chalmers.

"So what do you think to our little school?" she asked innocently.

"It's not too bad, in a parochial sort of way," said Daphne with a grin. "Have you ever been to Hogwarts?"

"No," replied Joanne with regret. "But I'd like to see it sometime, even if I wouldn't necessarily like to study there."

"It's certainly worth seeing," admitted Harry diplomatically.

"Your Beast hunting expedition," said Joanne, abruptly switching topics. "Are you just recruiting Hogwarts students, or can anyone sign up?"

"Well," hedged Harry, "it was really just me inviting friends to come along. Why?"

"I was talking to a couple of the Hogwarts girls this afternoon, and we seemed to get on alright, and one of them, Padma, suggested that I sign up. I thought it might be a good way to meet new people. I think that John and Mandeep might have been roped in, too. I just wanted to check that we weren't butting in where we weren't wanted."

"The more the merrier," decided Harry. "If you've met some of the others, and they've invited you, then that will be fine. Just let me know, or get whoever you're sharing a caravan with to let me know, exactly how many are coming."

"We've exchanged addresses," said Joanne. "You'll hear from us by Friday."

The line had been gradually shortening as they had been talking, and the three of them were now at the front of the queue. Harry gestured for Daphne to precede him, and the two of them found a seat about halfway down the bus. Unlike the Knight Bus it wasn't larger on the inside than the outside. Nor was it furnished with beds. It just looked like an ordinary bus. Once full, though, the engine started, the bus moved forward and, with a loud cracking noise was suddenly somewhere else, driving down a suburban street. Coming to a halt the driver called "Bridge Street, Taunton," and a boy jumped up, thanked the driver and hopped off. With a lurch and a crack, the bus was off again.

"What are you doing on Sunday," asked Daphne absently as she and Harry watched the ever changing scenery outside the bus.

"Nothing as far as I know," came the reply. "Why?"

"My mother's invited you to tea," said Daphne. "Come over at about two. I think that father wanted a chat with you as well."arHarr

Harry froze, remembering the expression on Agamemnon Greengrass's face back at Kings Cross when he'd found out that he was Daphne's boyfriend.

"Oh, don't worry about it," laughed Daphne. "He just wants to get to know you. I've never invited a boy home before."

Harry nodded warily, not convinced that Daphne's father's intentions were totally innocent, but decided that he had no option but to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"OK," he agreed. "About two".

"Privet Drive, Little Whinging," called the driver, and Harry rose, kissed Daphne goodbye and headed towards the door. A quick exchange of waves once he was on the pavement, and the bus was gone. He could see Dudley at the window of number 4, obviously attracted by the cracks of the bus's arrival and departure, and headed inside to tell his cousin about his day.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6, in which Bodmin Moor is visited and some of its magical denizens are encountered**

_Thursday 20 June 1996_

Harry had spent the day after his visit to the Dee Academy in study, wanting to make a start on all of his new subjects. He had worked through the first few chapters of each of his runes and arithmancy texts and was beginning to see what Hermione had always found so fascinating about the subjects. Being able to analyse magic itself opened up so many possibilities and Harry was determined to make the most of them.

He had actually done some serious thinking about his work ethic, and looking back over the previous five years was acutely embarrassed at how little he had really studied. Even though he had known that he had a psychotic Dark Lord out for his blood he had never made much of an effort to excel or even (in some cases) to even try. He had been told by many people how gifted both of his parents were, and yet he had never felt any urge to emulate their habits or achievements. Well, he resolved, that was going to change.

The day had concluded with Harry studying the first three chapters of his occlumency text, which (to his surprise) were not about protecting his mind, but about clearing it. Essentially they were all about meditation techniques. He now understood why Snape had told him to clear his mind at the beginning of each of his previous "lessons", but was seriously angry with the potions professor for not explaining how to do that. His previous failure to learn occlumency was not, he decided, all his own fault.

Settling into bed, he ran through the exercises at the end of the third chapter, as Sarah Chamberlain had told him to, and was swiftly asleep.

**OoOoO**

_Friday 21 June 1996_

Feeling as refreshed as he could ever remember, Harry threw himself back into study on Friday morning, eventually deciding to take a break when several owls flew into his bedroom. His friends had begun to let him know about their availability for the Beast of Bodmin hunt.

He was still waiting for several, though, so in the meantime decided to reply to the letters he had received earlier in the week from Ron and Ginny. He still wasn't entirely sure what he was going to say to Ron, so started with Ginny. Hers was a fairly straightforward letter. He complimented her on guessing the contents of Ron's letter accurately and went on to describe his day at the Dee. He also explained that most of his studies over the first part of the summer holidays would be catching up on arithmancy and runes, and so was nothing new. He offered, though, to lend her his occlumency texts if she was interested in learning the skill. He also mentioned the August trip to Cornwall, while acknowledging that, given her mum's reaction to the summer school, she was unlikely to be able to go, although she was welcome if she could manage to persuade the elder Weasleys.

That out of the way, Harry turned to the more difficult letter. He was well aware of Ron's somewhat simplistic view of the world, and wanted to write something that would force him to think about his attitudes to his peers. Knowing Ron, he would have to be blunt, though, in order to get his point across. Absently licking his quill, he wrote:

_Ron,_

_Thanks for your letter, and for insulting both my girlfriend and her parents. Not everyone in Slytherin is evil, just as not everyone in Gryffindor is good (remember Peter Pettigrew?) We're not 11 any more, and the world isn't black and white the way you'd like it to be. You need to start thinking before you speak or write. If you'd been sat next to me when I read your letter I'd have been very tempted to punch you. You don't know Daphne, and until you do, please keep your comments to yourself._

_Anyway, I went to the Dee Academy's open day on Wednesday, and it was really good. The courses they're offering for the summer all sounded interesting, and I've signed up for Mind Arts, Warding and Spellcraft, so I'm going to be spending a lot of my summer studying. I'm also planning on dropping Care of Magical Creatures and Divination next year, as well as Potions (no way am I spending another two years being insulted by Snape). Instead I'm going to take Arithmancy and Ancient Runes. Have you decided what subjects you're going to take for your NEWTs?_

_My family have changed a lot over the last year (since the dementor attack on me and my cousin last summer) and I'm getting on really well with them, so this summer is looking good. I probably won't be coming to stay at the Burrow this year – I want to spend time with my family and, as I say, I'll be spending a lot of time studying, so there wouldn't be much time for quidditch anyway. I would like to come over to see you and Ginny, though – when would be a good time to come over for the day?_

_Dudley and I are also going to Cornwall for a fortnight in August, along with quite a few others (including Neville, Luna and Hermione). It'll be a bit of a holiday, but we're also going to be hunting the Beast of Bodmin, a mysterious big cat that muggles think is on the loose down there. It might be magical, and even if we don't find anything we should have a good time. You're welcome to join us, if you can persuade your mum and dad to let you come._

_So, let me know the best time for a visit (and would it be OK for Dudley to come, too? He's never seen a wizarding household before and although I've tried to explain quidditch to him, I think it's a sport you have to see to appreciate, and I can't do a great deal of flying around Privet Drive!)._

_Harry_

That looked OK, thought Harry, reading the letter back. It would leave Ron in no doubt that he was annoyed with him, but was generally friendly and left open the prospect of a game of quidditch. He approached Hedwig's perch and, after a soft bark of approval, attached the letters to her leg. "These are for Ron and Ginny," he told her and, with another bark, she swiftly took wing and floated out of the window.

**OoOoO**

Over the next hour several more owls arrived, and Harry began to collate the replies. By lunchtime he was sure that everyone who was going to reply had done so, and he headed downstairs to find Dudley. His cousin had been devouring the books that Luna had lent him, and Harry found him in the lounge, halfway through 'Mysterious Magical Creatures of Northern Europe'.

"Anything in there sound like it might be the Beast?" asked Harry.

"Not really," confessed Dudley. "To be honest, if there is a Beast it sounds most likely to be an escapee from somewhere, rather than something native." He snapped the book shut. "Have you heard from all your friends yet?"

Harry flourished a sheaf of parchments at him. "Yep, we have twenty one volunteers, plus us two. Should make for a decent army for Pete to deploy!"

"Excellent!" enthused Dudley. "I've got Pete's phone number in my room, I'll nip and get it, and we'll let him know."

Number retrieved, Harry dialled and was surprised when the voice at the other end of the line answered with "Clearwaters, how may I help you?".

"Er, could I speak to Pete Collins, please?" asked Harry, remembering then that Penny had mentioned that she and Pete had summer jobs. Pete must be working at the muggle branch of her dad's firm, he decided.

After a short wait Pete came on the line and Harry told him how many recruits he had managed to muster and how many caravans they wanted to hire. Pete was delighted at the number.

"Brilliant, Harry!" he exclaimed. "With that many people we'll have a really good chance at finding something." There was a pause. "What are you and Dudley doing tomorrow?"

"Nothing really," said Dudley, who had picked up an extension in the kitchen to listen in on the call, "but England are playing Spain in the afternoon so we'll be watching that."

"That's not a problem," Pete told him. "I've got a load of stuff I need to take down to my uncle's, and a mate of mine who's involved in the student union at the university has agreed to lend me a minibus tomorrow. Penny and I are going to drive down to Cornwall to have a look round Bodmin Moor, scope out the area. There's plenty of room in the minibus – do you two fancy a day out? We'll find somewhere to watch the football, so you won't miss it."

"I'm in," said Dudley promptly.

"Me too," agreed Harry.

"Great," said Pete happily. ""Do any of your mates live locally? I can fit a few more in, if any of them want to see where we'll be staying in August?"

"A few do," hedged Harry. With the Knight Bus being available distance wasn't a problem of course, but he couldn't tell Pete that. "It might be a bit short notice, but I'll see if any of them are interested."

"Well, we'll call round for you and Dudley at about half past six," Pete told him. "Early, I know, but we want to have a reasonable amount of time to look round. Lan and Bob are meeting us down there, so I can fit another four or five people into the minibus. See what you can do."

"OK," Harry agreed. "We'll see you in the morning."

**OoOoO**

"Do you reckon you can get any of your mates down here for that time?" asked Dudley. He and Harry were sitting at the kitchen table while Harry tried to figure out who he could invite.

"I'm not sure about the pureblood wizards and witches," he admitted. "It'd take until quite late tonight for Hedwig to get to at least one of them, let alone a dozen. So I think we're restricted to people I can contact by phone."

"Which means?" prompted Dudley.

Harry thought about it. He was ashamed to admit that he didn't actually know for sure how many of his friends were muggleborn or half-bloods. Hermione was obviously muggleborn, as were Dean and Justin, but he was very hazy on the others. Those three were certainly the only ones he had phone numbers for, anyway.

"I can think of three," Harry told his cousin. I'll give them a try.

Having located the phone numbers, Hermione was his first call. Unfortunately she'd already made plans to go out with her mum the following day, and the lure of the Beast wasn't enough to get her to change her mind. Justin also had plans for the weekend, so it wasn't with a great deal of hope that Harry finally dialled Dean's number. Dean, though, was immediately enthusiastic.

"Of course I'm interested," he assured Harry. "I've got Seamus staying with me for a few days, too, if there's room for two of us. And as long as we're going to be finding somewhere with a TV for the England game."

"Plenty of room, and Pete says we'll be able to watch the match," Harry reassured him, and explained how he should go about summoning the Knight Bus. "Be here for 6:30 – I'll have the bacon sarnies waiting for you!"

**OoOoO**

_Saturday 22 June 1996_

Harry heard the crack of the Knight Bus over the sound of gently sizzling bacon. It was 6:20 am and he had just made a start on breakfast, deciding that a few bacon sandwiches wouldn't cost them too much time. Dudley headed to the front door and was shortly showing Dean and Seamus into the kitchen.

"Ready for some breakfast?" asked Harry. "Or has the Knight Bus ruined your appetites?"

"That bus is a bloody nightmare!" exclaimed Seamus. "I thought it'd be like the School Bus we caught the other day, but it had beds in it! And the driver's an absolute menace. We were on an airport runway at one point, and there was a jumbo jet coming in to land! After that, I just kept my eyes shut."

"Me too," agreed Dean. "I can't wait 'til we can learn to apparate."

A knock on the door heralded the arrival of Pete and Penny and, after another round of introductions, the group settled down to breakfast. In no time at all, or so it seemed, they were finished, washed up and were in the minibus that Pete had borrowed heading towards Cornwall.

**OoOoO**

Penny checked the map several times as the minibus approached the edge of Bodmin Moor, directing Pete down a serious of increasingly narrow and steep-banked side roads, until they eventually pulled off into a small car park. Looking out of the window, Harry could see Lan Blackstock's Landrover was the only other vehicle in sight. Lan and Bob Williams were stood in the back of it, binoculars clamped to their eyes, scanning the moor which seemed to begin at the edge of the car park.

Everyone decamped from the minibus, and they all wandered over to the Landrover where Dean and Seamus were introduced to Lan and Bob.

"So, Harry," said Lan, "how many of your friends did you manage to recruit for our expedition?"

"There'll be twenty three of us, including me, Dud and Luna," Harry told him. "Will that be enough for us to cover a reasonable part of the moor?"

"Oh yes," replied Lan. "It's not really the moor that's the problem, it's the farmland and woodland that surrounds it – plenty of cover for any lurking creatures. That's where Bob and I will be positioning most of you."

Harry nodded in understanding. "Did you get the walkie-talkies?"

"They're on order," said Lan. "I'm expecting them by the end of July, so we should have them in plenty of time. In the meantime Bob and I will be coming down here most weekends between now and August, scouting out the lie of the land ready for when the hunt proper begins."

"Are we planning to catch the Beast, or just film or photograph it?" asked Dean. "It's just that if it is some sort of big cat, I'm not sure a group of schoolchildren are really equipped to catch it, but without photos no-one will believe we've seen it, even if we do."

"Good question," said Pete. "One of our members, who you haven't met yet, is also a member of the University's Film Society. He's managed to borrow half a dozen video cameras and we'll be using those, both to try and film the Beast while we're out searching, and also by using them in camera traps. I'd also ask you all to bring your own cameras, if you own them, and to carry them with you at all times."

"We're certainly not expecting you to try and catch the Beast," affirmed Bob. "If it is a big cat, you should not approach it too closely, or do anything that might antagonise it. Lan and I will be running through some safety procedures with you all in August, before we start the hunt. Essentially, you are not to put yourself in any danger. Photos, if you can take them, will be fantastic."

Harry was relieved; Lan and Bob had obviously taken Luna's warning to heart. In contrast he wasn't too worried about safety, in that he knew that all of his friends would have their wands with them. They might not be able to use them for everyday things, but they could certainly use them for defence if attacked by a big cat.

Lan was now handing out large-scale ordnance survey maps. Harry opened his and listened to Lan's explanation as to the main landmarks on and around the moor.

"Right," he concluded. "The best way for you to familiarise yourselves with the terrain is to go out there and walk around in it." He looked at his watch. "It's 10:00 now. I suggest we split up, do a bit of walking, and meet up for lunch in St Neot, which is a village to the south of the Moor. There's a pub at the end of the main street called the Pendragon Arms. We'll rendezvous there at 1:00."

There was a chorus of agreement. It was decided that Lan and Bob would drive over to the east of the moor and scout around a large lake _cum_ reservoir that dominated that area ("all beasts have to drink") while Pete and Penny would drive to St Neot, leave the minibus in the pub car park and start their reconnaissance from there. Harry, Dudley, Dean and Seamus would simply walk from the car park they were currently in to St Neot, scouting out any areas that looked interesting. In short order, the four teens were on their own.

**OoOoO**

Scrambling over a stile, the four found themselves on the edge of the moor proper. Footpaths led in several directions, some over the moor and some heading towards patches of woodland in the distance. Bearing in mind Lan's earlier comment it was one of these latter paths that, by unspoken agreement, the four took.

It was a fine day, and Harry ravelled in the sheer normality of it all. He was walking through the countryside with his friends, talking about inconsequential matters without a care in the world. The boys passed several other walkers as the path dropped slowly into a shallow valley, and occasional birds were flushed from the undergrowth, but overall the countryside evinced an aura of gentle tranquillity.

As the path became more wooded, talk switched to the Beast and the chances of actually finding it. All four of them ducked into the woods on either side of the path and poked around; it was broadleaf woodland and Harry could see that there was plenty of cover for a plethora of creatures, a thought that had obviously occurred to the others, too.

"If there is a beast lurking around in here, we'll only find it if it wants to be found," commented Seamus. "If it's a big cat there's no way we'll be able to sneak up on it. It'll come down to luck, and someone surprising it."

Dudley nodded. "The photos that I've seen were all taken at distance when the Beast, if it was the Beast, didn't know it was being photographed. Most sightings are either at a distance or are very sudden – like motorists seeing it crossing the road in front of them."

"The camera traps are a good idea, though," said Dean. "If they're rigged up with a motion sensor we'd get photos of anything that moved."

"If it is a big cat, what do you reckon it is?" asked Seamus. "I had a look in the 'Monster Book of Monsters' and couldn't see anything about magical big cats in the British Isles. Although to be fair, I gave up after it bit me the second time. By the time I caught it it had eaten a pair of my Da's shoes, so I roped it up and stuck it on top of my wardrobe."

Harry grinned, remembering his first encounter with Hagrid's rather idiosyncratic textbook. "I couldn't see anything either," he admitted. "But Dud's been reading some books that Luna lent him." He turned to his cousin. "Did you have any luck after I spoke to you yesterday?"

"Not really," admitted Dudley. "The two main books both discuss the sightings down here but neither author thinks that, if there is a Beast, it's native. If it is something that's escaped or been released by someone, it could be anything."

"What about Luna's dad's book?" asked Harry. "Is there anything interesting in there?"

Dudley grimaced. "There are a lot of sightings. But most of them start with: "I was on my way home from the pub when . . .", so I'm not sure how accurate they are."

"Do they say which pubs?" asked Dean. "If any of them had been in the Pendragon Arms we could ask in there later, see what the locals really think."

"I got the impression that the Pendragon Arms was an ordinary pub," said Harry. Do wizards drink in ordinary pubs? I mean, pubs that serve muggles."

Seamus snorted. "If it's anything like rural Ireland, wizards'll drink anywhere that'll serve them, muggle or not."

"Well then," said Dean, "we'll ask in there when we go in for lunch if anyone's ever seen anything strange on the moor and see what kind of response we get."

"If it's a mixed pub, how will we know if the person we're talking to is a wizard or a muggle?" asked Dudley. "We'd want to ask different questions to wizards, wouldn't we?"

Seamus shrugged. "We've got Harry with us. We'll soon know who's a wizard and who isn't."

Dudley looked puzzled, and Harry realised that his cousin was still unaware of quite how well known he actually was in the wizarding world. Seamus spotted it too, and grinned mischievously.

"It's Harry Potter!" he exclaimed in a falsetto voice. "Mr Potter, will you sign my beer mat, please?" He switched to a bass: "Mr Potter, would you be interested in marrying one of my daughters? Or all of them? You can take your pick."

Dean joined in enthusiastically. "Oh Mr Potter," he swooned, "you're my hero! I want to have your children! We can start as soon as you like!"

"No, no, me Mr Potter!" cried Seamus. "I may be an eighty-year-old bloke but magic can do wonderful things! Take me now!"

"Ha ha," said Harry sarcastically to his two dorm-mates, who had collapsed laughing into the hedge-bottom. "You're so funny."

"We should take bets," Dean continued. "How many witches in the pub will throw their knickers at him?"

"Witches throw their knickers at you?" asked Dudley incredulously.

"No witch has ever thrown her knickers at me," Harry managed to grate out. "I get quite a bit of attention because of the whole "Boy-Who-Lived" thing," he explained to Dudley, "but it's nothing like these two jokers are making out."

Dean was still chuckling. "He's right," he admitted to Dudley. "But if there are wizards or witches in the pub, they'll recognise him."

Disgruntled, Harry strode ahead while Dean and Seamus explained what they called "the cult of Potter" to Dudley. The footpath had widened into a narrow track as it got closer to the floor of the valley, and presumably civilisation, and was now bordered by high hedges. This, coupled with the sunken nature of the track meant that there were barriers almost twenty feet high on both sides. Ahead, Harry could see the track widen again as the path he was on was joined by a second path. As he reached the junction, though, he felt the hairs on his arms stand up and a frisson of electricity passed over him. He stopped abruptly and looked around for the source of his reaction.

The other three quickly caught up with him as he slowly spun around. "What are you looking for? There's nothing . . ." began Seamus, before breaking off as he clearly experienced the same feeling that Harry had. From his expression, Dean had felt it too, and the three Gryffindors were now all anxiously scanning the hedge banks.

"What's up with you three?" asked Dudley, who obviously hadn't felt anything.

"There's something here," explained Seamus in a whisper. "We all felt it, and since you didn't it must be something magical."

Dean gestured towards the other fork in the track. Unlike the path that the four boys had come down it looked far less used and the hedge banks were much more overgrown, to the point that the path was almost a tunnel, overgrown trees at the top of the banks forming a roof to the path below. "Maybe it's something up there."

"Up where?" asked Dudley his eyes passing over the opening to the second path.

"Follow the line of my finger," Harry told him, pointing directly up the path, and getting an inkling of what was going on.

"Whoa," exclaimed Dudley, his eyes suddenly focusing. "It's like the Leaky Cauldron in London."

"There's some kind of muggle-repelling ward on this path," explained Harry at Seamus and Dean's blank looks. "It took a few seconds before Dud could see the Leaky Cauldron, and this looks like it's the same."

"It's a weird sensation," said Dudley. "With the Leaky Cauldron I could sort of sense that the pub was there, I just couldn't focus on it to begin with. Here, though, I didn't even suspect that there was another path here. But when Harry pointed it out, it's like a gap just appeared in the bank, and there it was."

Seamus whistled. "That's a strong anti-muggle ward. Me mam says the Leaky Cauldron's got muggle-focused notice-me-not charms on it, so muggles see the pub, but don't really notice it. But it sounds as though this ward makes the path actually invisible to muggles."

"But I can see it now," Dudley pointed out. "Will that wear off? If we come back up here next week, say, would I still be able to see it?"

"I don't know," admitted Seamus.

Harry and Dean also confessed their lack of knowledge, although Harry made a mental note to research the differences between this ward and the charms on the Leaky Cauldron.

Seamus had stepped onto the warded path and was peering through the gloom. "Shall we go and have a look what's up there?"

Harry checked his watch. "We've still got plenty of time before we have to meet the others," he said. "But let's be careful, OK? We don't know what might be up there." He turned back to Seamus. "Do you know if animals are affected by these kinds of wards?" he asked.

"No," admitted Seamus. "But I can see where you're going. Somewhere like this would be a perfect hiding place for something like the Beast of Bodmin, if no muggles could ever get in." He paused for a moment, then reached into his pocket and pulled out his wand. "Better safe than sorry," he said.

Harry nodded, and he and Dean also pulled out their wands. "Keep your eyes open," Harry warned Dudley.

The four of them slowly made their way up the hidden path. There was hardly a sound to be heard and Harry thought that the absence of everyday, country sounds was far more noticeable than the sounds themselves would have been. The path slowly curved and eventually, after around a quarter of a mile, a high brick wall came into view with a large pair of gates set into it. A wooden sign was affixed to the wall at the side of the gate.

"Penharrow Grange," read Seamus. "No visitors without an appointment. Trespassers will be prosecuted."

"Friendly looking place," commented Dean.

"Penharrow!" exclaimed Harry and Dudley in unison, and Harry quickly explained how he and Dudley had met 'Cheesewire' Penharrow in London. "She said she'd grown up on the edge of the moor, this must be her place."

"Well, she seemed nice enough," said Dudley. "I know it says no visitors, but she might see us. She certainly knew about strange happenings around here. He reached for the gate, but his hand stopped six inches from the latch.

Harry looked at his cousin, puzzled. "Well, go on," he said.

"I can't touch it," grunted Dudley, who Harry could now see was straining to reach the latch. "It's like there's some kind of force stopping me getting any closer." With a gasp he stepped back and scowled at the gate.

It was quickly established that none of the three wizards could touch the gate either. "Another kind of ward?" asked Dudley.

"Must be," admitted Harry. He thought back to the ward that Ambrose Pearce had put around his pensieve and assumed that this was something similar, although presumably on a much larger scale. Seamus seemed also to have been wondering about the extent of the ward, as he had plunged into the undergrowth and was following the wall, trying occasionally to touch it but not, from the muffled cursing drifting back to them, having a great deal of success.

"Looks like it goes all around the estate, following the wall," announced Seamus as he reappeared. "Unless we can break it down somehow, I don't see how we can go any further."

Harry nodded in agreement. "And we don't know for sure that Cheesewire lives here. It could be a relative, or her family could have sold it since she lived here as a child. So even if we could break it down, do you really want to knock on the front door of a strange, reclusive wizard who obviously doesn't like unannounced visitors, and tell him that you've destroyed the ward protecting his estate?"

"No!" came the chorus of responses. The four turned and began to walk back towards the main path.

"If it is Cheesewire's estate, we can always write and ask her if she'll meet us and tell us what she knows about strange happenings around here," commented Dudley as they passed through the anti-muggle ward.

"True," agreed Harry. "Next time I see Mad-Eye Moody I'll ask him how we can get in touch with her."

As the path widened into a lane, and signs of civilisation began to appear, the four teens picked up their pace and were soon in the village of St Neot. Checking his map Dudley directed them towards the main street and they soon came across the Pendragon Arms, the University's minibus parked in the small carpark to the side of the pub. Walking into the carpark, Harry could see that there was a beer garden at the back of the pub and Pete and Penny were lounging on a picnic bench, pint glasses at their sides, poring over a map. Penny looked up and waved.

While crossing the carpark Harry had heard the sound of engine getting louder. The source of the engine noise now became apparent as Lan and Bob's Landrover skidded around the corner at speed before screeching to a halt in a shower of gravel.

Bob leaped out of the driver's seat and headed straight towards Harry.

"Harry, I need you to come with me," he said quietly. "Lan's up at Dozmary Pool and we've found something that we need your help with."

"What's that?" said Pete excitedly from the beer garden. "You've found something? What have you found?"

Bob jumped at the sound of Pete's voice; he obviously hadn't spotted him, being too focused on Harry as he'd jumped out of the Landrover. He now looked slightly panicked as both Pete and Penny were leaning over the wall that separated the carpark from the beer garden, waiting for an answer.

"Oh, er, it's nothing major," said Bob, rather unconvincingly in Harry's opinion. "Lan said that it involved something that Harry might have studied at school," he continued, giving Harry a meaningful look.

Harry straightened up. It seemed that he and his friends weren't the only ones to have come across something interesting that morning. Bob's circumspection in the presence of Pete and Penny (who he, and Lan, obviously didn't know was a witch) could only mean that they had found something that was magical. Glancing sideways he could see that Penny had realised this too. She caught his eye and gave him a brief nod.

"We'll come," said Harry, gesturing to his friends.

"But what have you found?" pressed Pete, oblivious to the undercurrents in the carpark.

"Pete and I will meet you up there, and you can show us," said Penny. "We'll follow you. There's something I need to talk to Pete about on the way."

Harry winced, hoping that the conversation went well, and joined his friends, who had already clambered into the Landrover. Bob jumped back into the driver's seat and with another spray of gravel hurtled out onto the road.

"So what have you found?" asked Seamus, a certain amount of trepidation obvious in his voice. "Because if it breathes fire or has claws more than six inches long, you can drop me here and I'll wait for you back at the pub."

"Maybe it's a skrewt," said Dean innocently. "We could probably leave you to deal with it if it is. After all, those that Hagrid had last year seemed to like you. I'm sure this one will, too."

"Liked me?" said Seamus incredulously. "They got to damn near ten feet long and I spent two days in the hospital wing when one of them turned round unexpectedly and farted fire at me!" He turned back to Bob. "Just to clarify my earlier statement: if it emits fire from any orifice I don't want to know."

Bob was doing an admirable job of keeping his composure (unlike Dudley, who's jaw had dropped comically at the thought of a fire-farting monster). "I haven't seen any fire," he said carefully. "But whatever the things we've found are, they don't seem normal."

"From what you said, Lan thinks they're magical though," said Harry. "What makes him think that? And how much do you know about magic anyway?"

"Several of the, whatever they are, looked like they could turn invisible," replied Bob. "And that's not a common characteristic in any animal I've ever heard of. And as for magic, I know it exists, and that there's a whole hidden world out there, but that's about it."

"So how did you find out about it?" asked Dudley curiously. "Do you have magical relatives, like me and Harry?"

"Nothing so exotic," admitted Bob. "I joined the army straight from school and met Lan, who'd joined on the same day. We were both completely out of our depth, me because I'd never been away from home before, and Lan because, as I later found out, he'd hardly ever left his family's estate and had never even visited the normal world. We stuck together, trying to make sense of this strange new world we'd found ourselves in, and quickly became best mates. Course, it didn't take me long to realise that there was something weird about him and eventually, having sworn me to secrecy, he told me about your world."

"And you believed him?" asked Dean. "Just like that?"

"By this point we'd been deployed to Aden, and had fought together in a number of skirmishes," explained Bob. "Having gone through that, there was no way either of us would have lied to the other. And I knew Lan wasn't mentally unstable. So, unbelievable as it seemed, I knew that it must be true. And you see a lot of strange things when you're in the army. We did a tour in the far east in the early 70s and I saw some things that, well – if there had been any doubt in my mind that magic was real, there wasn't after that."

"So, what exactly have you found?" asked Dudley, bringing the conversation back on track as Bob pulled the Landrover up at the side of the road.

"We're not totally sure," admitted Bob as the five of them climbed over a stile and headed towards what looked like a large lake in the distance. "There are five of them, and they look like a cross between a bird and a lizard. They're about four feet long, and have got wicked looking teeth, but seem to be curious rather than violent."

"This is the point where we probably stumble over Lan's horrifically mutilated and half-eaten corpse," said Seamus gloomily, his eyes flicking from side to side warily.

"Or not," said Dudley cheerfully as they rounded a small copse of trees and saw Lan, very much alive, surrounded by the mystery beasts that Bob had described. They did indeed look like a cross between birds and reptiles, having scaly-looking bodies but also significant clumps of feathers sprouting from various points. In particular, they had feathered wings. Or rather, their upper limbs were covered in feathers. They were rather colourful, too – their scales were an iridescent green, and their feathers bright scarlet.

At the sound of Dudley's voice the creatures turned as one and, wings flapping ineffectively, ran towards the newcomers. Seamus leaped backwards with a rather girlish squeal, but it was quickly apparent that the creatures meant them no harm. They crowded around, snuffling at the boys' clothes, but didn't seem to pose an immediate threat.

Dudley was staring at the creatures, an ecstatic look on his face. "They're like little feathered dinosaurs!" he exclaimed.

"Velociraptors, with my luck," muttered Seamus, still trying to edge away.

"Didn't birds evolve from dinosaurs?" asked Dean. "Are these some sort of missing link?"

Harry shrugged – he'd never heard of birds being related to dinosaurs and wasn't sure what a velociraptor was – but Dudley seemed to be better informed. "Less of a missing link, more of a prehistoric survival," he told Dean. "Like the coelacanth, perhaps. That's a fish that everyone thought had been extinct for millions of years until one turned up in South Africa," he told Harry, spotting his puzzled expression.

"But how did they get here?" asked Dean. "And why has no-one spotted them before. They're not exactly inconspicuous."

Almost on cue, all five of the creatures raised their heads, looked back towards the path and began to flicker in and out of view. Three of them managed to disappear completely. This, Harry realised, was the invisibility talent that Bob had mentioned. He could tell from the occasional buffet to his leg that at least one of the disappeared creatures was still actually present.

The two remaining creatures continued to flicker, although more sporadically and with less frequency. One of them seemed to give up completely and sank to the floor, still completely visible, with a mournful cheep. The other one tried, not particularly successfully, to hide behind Bob. This was the sight that greeted Pete and Penny as they rounded the same copse of trees that had initially hidden Lan from view.

Pete was in the lead, and at the sight of him the creature on the floor emitted another rather pathetic sound, this one a low, mournful hoot. At Penny's appearance, though, it perked up and rose to its feet again. At the same time, the three creatures that had successfully turned themselves invisible reappeared.

Dean, who had turned towards the trees when the first invisibility attempts had been made, was looking thoughtfully between the creatures and Pete and Penny.

"They look like they can sense magic," he announced. "They were fine with us, it was only when they sensed Pete that they tried to hide. Then when they saw Penny, they weren't worried any more. But how would they know?"

Harry and Dudley exchanged glances, Penny's lecture at the SABRE meeting coming to mind.

"Some creatures can sense auras," said Harry carefully. "It looks like these, whatever they are, have the ability, anyway. They aren't worried about wizards or witches, or squibs, but they react to muggles." He turned to Bob. "Did they see you first and try to go invisible, then relax when they saw Lan?" he asked.

"Yes, I saw them first, and they did their disappearing trick; well, three of them did. The other two just flickered like now," replied Bob. "I shouted out, and when Lan appeared they all became visible. That's when Lan sent me to get you."

"But that doesn't explain where they come from," Dudley pointed out. They can't be native to Britain. There's nothing even remotely like them in any of the books Luna gave me, not even her Dad's."

Throughout this exchange, Pete had been staring open-mouthed at the creatures. "It's real," he said faintly. "Magic is real," before sinking to his knees. One of the creatures approached him and tried to climb into his lap and he absently stroked the feathered crest on its head.

"You told him, then," commented Harry, looking sympathetically at Pete, although most of his focus was still on the creatures. Dean and Dudley were also gently stroking two of them, both of which seemed to appreciate the attention.

"This one's very thin," said Dean, whose creature was one of the two that hadn't managed to disappear fully. "And its feathers are pretty bedraggled. Do you reckon they've escaped from somewhere? Are there any wizarding zoos round here?"

"Not that I'm aware of," answered Penny. "But wherever they came from, we can't leave them out here. They're obviously magical and if they can't protect themselves with invisibility someone else is bound to stumble across them."

"The Ministry?" asked Dean.

"No," said Harry abruptly, thinking of the Ministry's attitude towards Buckbeak. "They're as likely to kill them as protect them, if it means keeping the secrecy statute in place.

"Well, what else can we do?" asked Seamus reasonably.

"Hagrid!" exclaimed Harry, suddenly thinking of his first friend in the wizarding world. "He'll help us with them!"

"Hagrid's a long way away," said Seamus dubiously. "How would we get a message to him?"

"There was a floo connection in the Pendragon Arms," said Penny unexpectedly, before turning to Harry. "Will Hagrid be at Hogwarts?"

"I think so," Harry replied. "He didn't say anything about going away anywhere when I spoke to him last week."

"Right," said Penny decisively. "I'll apparate up to Hogwarts, and if I can find him I'll send him down to the Three Broomsticks to come through the floo to the Pendragon Arms. I don't think I could side-along someone as big as Hagrid."

"Side-along?" questioned Dean.

"Bringing someone else along when you apparate," explained Penny. "It takes a lot of power to apparate, though – a lot of wizards aren't able to apparate themselves, let alone other people. And the further you go, the more power you need. For example, I could probably side-along someone your size for a short distance, but I couldn't get one of you as far as Hogwarts, and I doubt I could get Hagrid anywhere."

Dean nodded in understanding.

Penny turned to Bob. "The person I'm going to fetch is a quite a large man and wouldn't fit in your Landrover. We should be able to get him in the minibus, but I don't trust Pete to drive it at the moment."

Everyone turned to look at Pete, who was still absently stroking his creature. It had begun to make a soft, crooning sound. "Hmm, what?" he said, noticing the attention focused on him.

"I rest my case," said Penny dryly. "I'm going to fetch a creature specialist," she told her boyfriend. "Bob's going to take the minibus and meet him back at the pub. You say up here with everyone else, and I'll see you soon." She turned on the spot and disappeared with a crack.

Pete flinched, inadvertently dislodging his creature, which hissed in displeasure. "What happened to her?" he gasped, as Bob headed off towards the minibus.

"Think personal teleportation, like on 'Star Trek'," Dudley told him helpfully.

"So you all knew about this?" asked Pete resignedly. "Magic, I mean. And you've all being laughing up your sleeves at me all along?"

"No," said Lan sharply. "We all knew about magic, yes, although some more than others. But no-one's been laughing at you, just as we don't laugh at anyone else who doesn't know. The secrecy's there for a reason."

Pete nodded sadly. "I see the need for that," he agreed. "But then why tell me? Penny said that you can remove memories. Why not just make me forget?" He looked morosely at his feet.

"None of us can remove memories," Harry told him. "And we are allowed to tell certain people. Dudley knows, for example, because he's my cousin and I live with him. Lots of wizards and witches come from non-magical families, and the families have to know."

"That's right," agreed Dean. "My mum and dad, and my brothers and sisters know, and none of them are magical."

"But that's family," protested Pete. "Why am I allowed to know?"

"My mam's a witch, and she married a muggle – that's someone non-magical," Seamus told him. "Didn't tell him 'til after they were married. That could have gone horribly wrong if he'd took it the wrong way. I should think Penny's just preparing the ground."

Pete's eyes widened comically. "What, you mean she . . .? I mean, I'd hoped, and she's great, but . . ." he trailed off, a small smile appearing on his face.

"Ah, young love," said Seamus happily. "My work here is done."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Well, back to the problem at hand. We still don't know where these came from. Or whether there are more of them around." He turned to Lan. "Do you think these are all that there are?"

"They seem pretty sociable," said Lan thoughtfully. "If there were more, they'd probably have turned up too, or been with these in the first place. But I've no idea where they could have come from, short of a private collection in the area from which they've escaped, as Dean suggested."

"How would we find out?" asked Dudley. "Does your Ministry keep a registry of weird creatures, or can anyone keep anything?"

Harry thought of all the creatures Hagrid had managed to obtain over the years, many of which seemed to have been of dubious legality.

"There are rules about what you can keep," he said carefully. "But not everyone follows them. And as long as you don't go releasing dragons in central London, the Ministry probably won't find out about what you're up to."

"We'll put a note up in the pub," said Dean suddenly. "Penny said it had a floo connection, right? So it must have wizarding customers and the staff must know about magic. So we'll tell them what we've found, and if the owners of these things turn up, they can go up to Hogwarts and get them back from Hagrid. Assuming Hagrid takes them."

"That's not a bad plan," said Lan. "And while we're at it, we can ask for information about the Beast, too."

"So is the Beast real?" asked Pete, who had been following the conversation with interest. "What is it?"

Harry shrugged. "You know as much as we do," he told Pete. "It might be an escaped big cat, completely non-magical. Or it might be some sort of magical creature. There are as many, if not more, mysterious things happening in the magical world as there are in the non-magical world."

Pete was beginning to look excited again. "So the expedition's still on? But now we know that the Beast might be magical we have new areas of enquiry." He turned to Harry. "Are all these friends you're bringing magical?"

"Yes," confirmed Harry. "Aside from Dud, they're all wizards and witches. But we're all underage, so none of us can actually do magic without getting into trouble."

Pete looked like he had a lot more questions, but at that moment there was a loud crack and Penny reappeared, staggering as she landed. Pete rushed over to steady her and led her to a tree stump which she collapsed onto gratefully, breathing hard.

"Are you OK?" asked Harry in concern. Penny looked very pale and was clearly exhausted.

"I'll be fine in a couple of minutes," she said. "As I said, apparating takes a lot of power, more the further you go, and I've been to Scotland. That's a long way."

Harry nodded. The power requirements for apparation was something else he'd never considered. He had a sudden thought and wondered if this might be a way to double-check any conclusions from Hermione's 'power' experiments over the summer. If distance apparated was directly related to the power of the wizard, this might be a way to gauge power. He suggested as much to Penny.

"That's certainly possible," she said thoughtfully. "Although you might also run into 'focus' issues. I've never heard of anyone trying to measure power like that, though."

Harry decided that he was going to start carrying a notebook around with him, to make sure that he wouldn't forget any of these new ideas that kept occurring to him.

"Did you find Hagrid?" he asked, suddenly remembering the reason for Penny's trip to Hogwarts.

"I did," she replied. "I told him we'd found some mysterious creatures that none of us recognised, described them to him, and he couldn't get away fast enough. We both came back through the floo then I left him with Bob and apparated back up here in case you needed help. But you look like you've got everything under control."

The five creatures had now settled down in a heap and had set up an insistent, plaintive crooning, their mournful eyes following every move of the humans.

"I reckon they're hungry," said Lan, who had been studying the creatures carefully. "If they've escaped from somewhere they probably haven't been able to find whatever it is they normally eat. That might be why those two had difficulty turning invisible."

They all looked at the pile of creatures thoughtfully. What would a small, feathered dinosaur eat, wondered Harry.

Dean pulled an apple out of his rucksack. "Do you think they like fruit?" he asked tentatively. "I don't want to give them something that'll make them ill."

It was at that point that Harry heard the sound of an approaching engine, and the group turned towards the copse of trees expectantly, to be greeted by the sight of Hagrid clumping towards them. Pete was looking at Hagrid in amazement, obviously not used to the sight of eight-foot-tall men. Even Lan looked vaguely impressed.

"Harry!" called Hagrid happily as he joined the group. "I didn't realise you were 'ere!"

His attention, though, was immediately distracted by the sight of the pile of creatures, who were still piled up lethargically. He sank to his knees in front of them and gently stroked the nearest. "Ain't you beauties?" he crooned happily.

"Do you know what they are?" asked Harry.

"Kukulkan," replied Hagrid absently, now checking the creatures over. "They look a bit rough, but that's not surprisin' – they're native to the jungles of South America. Where've they come from?"

Harry recapped the story Bob had told them and Hagrid nodded understandingly as Harry explained about the invisibility attempts of the creatures.

"They got hunted almost to extinction by the muggle tribes in the Amazon," explained Hagrid. "But then the last few were adopted as tribe totems by one of the magical tribes down there and they protected them from the muggles. Over time it looks like they've learned to trust wizards, and hide from muggles."

"We don't know how they got here, but we reckon they must have escaped from somewhere," Lan put in. "Harry suggested that you might be able to take them in."

"Aye, I'll take 'em with pleasure!" said Hagrid enthusiastically. "I've got plenty of room for them."

"How are we going to get them back to Hogwarts?" asked Seamus. "We'd draw a bit of attention to ourselves if we tried to take them back into St Neot and into the pub."

"Portkey 'ud be best," said Hagrid. "But I dunno who we'd get to make one. Do you know how to make one, Miss Clearwater?"

"No," admitted Penny. "Technically you need a licence to create them, and I don't know anyone who has one, except perhaps Professor Dumbledore."

"What about the Knight Bus?" said Harry quickly, not really wanting anyone to suggest putting out a call for Dumbledore. "It must have space for luggage, if we can get the kukulkan into travelling crates."

"Aye, that'd work," exclaimed Hagrid. "Good thinking, Harry."

"We don't actually have any travelling crates," Dean pointed out.

"Can't you just magic some up?" asked Pete.

"Magic doesn't work like that," Penny told him ruefully. "Conjuring takes a lot of power, and the longer you want the item to last, the more power you need. I certainly don't want to risk conjuring crates that might disappear half-way through the journey. And I'm not even sure I could conjure five crates anyway."

"What about transfiguring something else?" suggested Harry thoughtfully. "Inanimate to inanimate transfiguration should be OK. We've even got plenty of wood to use," he concluded, pointing to a fallen tree at the edge of the nearby copse."

"Power again, Harry," said Penny. "You've only just finished your fifth year, I know, so you won't have studied permanent and semi-permanent transfiguration yet – that's a NEWT topic. But essentially, transfiguration is what we call entropic – its effects decay over time. The longer-lasting you want a transfiguration to be, the more power you need. Really long-term transfiguration, or permanent transfiguration, is generally impossible for all but the strongest wizards."

This momentarily sidetracked Harry's thought process; here was another possible way to measure the power of a wizard, and he couldn't see that there was an emotional aspect to transfiguration that might skew the results. He needed to talk to Hermione, he decided.

In the meantime, Dudley had continued questioning Penny.

"So how much power does it take to transfigure a chunk of tree trunk into a crate?" he was asking. "Are you saying that you could do the transfiguration, but couldn't guarantee that it would last long enough to get the kukulkan to Hogwarts?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying," confirmed Penny. Ordinarily I'd be reasonably confident of being able to transfigure five crates that would hold their transfigurations for a couple of hours, which would probably be enough for Hagrid to get them back to the school. But after the amount of power I used apparating up to Scotland and back, I don't think I can do it now. It'll take several hours for my power levels to recover enough for me to be sure they'd last."

"Is that normal?" asked Dean curiously. "We've never really learned about power levels at school. I mean, I know that You-Know-Who and Dumbledore are meant to be really powerful, but how powerful is 'really powerful' compared to the rest of us?"

Penny looked rather embarrassed. "Power isn't something that's really taught at Hogwarts," she admitted. "But to be honest, I'm not really that powerful a witch compared to most of my classmates. From what I could tell, going through seven years with them, there was quite a spread of power levels. But no-one as powerful as Dumbledore or You-Know-Who, of course."

"Why 'of course'? asked Harry, thinking about Headmistress Franklin's comments about Voldemort's abilities. "I wouldn't say he's that much more powerful than any other wizards I've met. More knowledgeable certainly, but more powerful? I thought it was almost impossible to measure power levels anyway. I mean, take Hermione for example." He looked at Dean and Seamus. "You know what she's like. In fifty years, will people see her as being as powerful as we see Dumbledore now? Because I bet that she'll rival him for overall knowledge by then."

"She's pretty scary now," said Seamus with a grin. "But I see what you mean. Is she more inherently powerful than any of us? Or are we all the same, but some of us study and use our power more effectively than others?"

"It's a bit of both," said Penny. "You've probably all heard the muggle saying "knowledge is power", and that's very true when it comes to magic. But I'd say that Professor Flitwick was as knowledgeable as Professor Dumbledore. I don't think he's as powerful, though." She sighed. "And there are definitely differences in power. Like I said, I know I'm not that powerful, and my reaction to the apparation shows it."

Harry wasn't entirely convinced that power differentials could be as great as Penny was suggesting. He knew that he thought of some of his classmates as being 'less powerful' or 'more powerful' than others, but as he'd suggested to Seamus that tended to be based on knowledge. Hermione was certainly more knowledgeable than him, but was she more powerful? And where did that leave Luna's revelations about auras? She had certainly taken it as a given that some wizards were more powerful than others. He sighed. There were obviously no easy answers, but he was starting to look forward to taking part in Hermione's summer project on power levels.

While he was musing on power, Pete had obviously also been thinking. "Well, even if you can't do the transfiguration," he was saying to Penny, "Harry and the others can, can't they? Even if they're younger than you, surely if they only did one or two crates each that would be enough?"

"Yeah, if we don't mind getting warning letters from the Ministry about under-age magic use," said Dean resignedly. "We're not allowed to do magic outside of school until we're 17. Harry did some last summer and got hauled up in front of the whole Wizengamot for it."

"That was a travesty," interjected Penny. "That wasn't about under-age magic use, it was about Fudge trying to discredit Harry and Professor Dumbledore." She hesitated. "How much do you know about how under-age magic is detected by the Ministry?"

Harry and his friends looked at each other and shrugged in unison.

"I assumed the Ministry had detectors that could track it," admitted Dean. "But I don't know how. How can you distinguish between a spell cast by a sixteen-year-old and one cast by a seventeen-year-old?" he asked rhetorically.

"You can't," said Penny with a grin. "Anyone else?"

"Isn't it the wand?" asked Harry. "Ron once told me that Ollivander puts a tracking spell on every wand he sells, and that's how the Ministry knows." He paused, remembering the summer before his second year. "No, that can't be right," he said, answering his own question. "I got a warning once for magic performed by a house-elf, so it can't be that."

"You're right, it's not the wand," confirmed Penny, "although the Ollivander rumour is a common one."

"So what's left?" mused Seamus. "If it's not general, and not the wand . . ." he trailed off. "Is it us?" he said suddenly, his voice rising in alarm. "Do we have tracking spells attached to us at birth linked to the Ministry's detectors? What else are they tracking?"

"You've been reading the Quibbler again, haven't you?" laughed Harry. "Same argument as for the wand – if there was a tracking spell on me, I wouldn't have got a warning for a house-elf spell."

"You would if it was simply there to detect magic performed in your vicinity," protested Seamus. "It wouldn't know who cast the spell, just that it was near to you."

"It just seems too complicated," said Harry. "And who casts the spell on muggleborns? No-one knows they're magical until they get their Hogwarts letter."

Penny broke in before Seamus could continue his protest. "You haven't got a tracking spell on you, Seamus," she reassured him. "Although you're almost right. Under-age magic use is indeed monitored by way of a tracking spell, but it's not on you, or your wand."

"Locations," said Harry suddenly, as the answer occurred to him. "If the Ministry can't monitor the whole country, they must be monitoring smaller areas where wizards are likely to be. Are there monitoring spells linked to wizards' houses?" he asked Penny.

"You've got it," confirmed Penny. "There will be a charm, for example, on your aunt and uncle's house which will register when magic is performed there."

"But if it's tracking under-age magic, why did it think that a spell cast by a house-elf was cast by me?" asked Harry.

"The monitoring charm can't tell the difference," breathed Dean. "It doesn't monitor under-age magic, it monitors magic."

"Right again," agreed Penny.

"But, what about wizarding houses," protested Seamus. "If I cast a spell at home, how would the Ministry know it was me, and not my mam?"

"It wouldn't," said Penny bluntly. There was silence, before Harry, Dean and Seamus all tried to speak at once.

"Hey, one at a time! One at a time!" laughed Penny.

"That's not fair!" blurted Dean. "Children in a wizarding house can do as much magic as they want, and muggleborn children can't!"

"Fairness doesn't really come into it, although you're right," admitted Penny. "Think, though. What is the purpose of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery?"

Harry thought about it. A blanket ban did seem rather heavy-handed, but there had to be a reason. What, then, was the problem with wizarding children casting magic? It didn't take much consideration before he suspected he had the answer.

"The Secrecy Statute," he suggested.

Penny nodded. "Absolutely right. Children don't have the restraint of adult wizards and witches and are more likely to accidentally give away the secret. Especially if they're muggleborn and living in muggle towns and cities, surrounded by muggles. And what happens if a spell goes wrong? If you live in a magical household there's likely to be an adult wizard who can put things right, or at least go for help. If you're a muggleborn child and you do something you can't reverse, there's no-one and it's much more likely that the muggle authorities will become aware of it. We simply can't take that risk."

"It's still not fair to muggleborns," said Dean mulishly.

"What's the alternative?" asked Penny.

"I don't know," admitted Dean after a few moments' thought.

Dudley had been following the conversation with interest. "So would I be right in thinking that your Ministry won't have monitoring spells up here?" he asked Penny. "Because if they don't, you're saying that Harry, Dean and Seamus could transfigure the crates we need."

A slow smile spread over Harry's face. He could see from the grin on Penny's face that Dudley was right, and pulled out his wand. Taking a deep breath he said "_lumos_", and the tip of his wand burst into light. Dean and Seamus immediately cast the same spell and they all left their wands alight, waiting to see if a warning from the Ministry would arrive. After ten minutes had passed with no owls appearing, Harry extinguished his wand. "Right," he said, still smiling broadly. "Who's up for a spot of transfiguration practice?"

**OoOoO**

Feeling somehow more alive now that he had his wand in hand, Harry levitated the fallen tree over to the group and, after warning them to stand back, launched a serious of cutting curses at it. His first attempts barely scratched the surface so, remembering his occlumency text's basic relaxation techniques, he slowed his breathing and concentrated as hard as he could on forcing power into his cast.

"_Diffindo_," he eventually said calmly, aiming at a section of the trunk around four feet from the base. To his relief (as he hadn't wanted to fail in front of all the observers) the curse sliced cleanly through the tree and the detached segment rolled away from the main body of the trunk. He focused again and repeated the process, until the trunk had been sliced into five roughly equal pieces.

"Nice one, Harry," said Dudley, obviously impressed that his cousin had been so easily able to carve up the tree.

Seamus and Dean had each appropriated one of the segments. "What kind of crate do we need, Hagrid?" Seamus asked the half-giant.

"If you can make one about five feet long, two feet wide and tall, that'd do the trick," Hagrid replied.

Seamus nodded. "_Verto_," he incanted with a twirl of his wand. The trunk rippled and briefly assumed the shape of a crate, but almost immediately reverted to its original form.

"Damn!" cursed Seamus, letting out a breath and glaring at the trunk.

Dean cast the same spell, with the same result, although his crate did look more correctly formed before its swift reversion.

Harry turned to Penny. "Is 'verto' the spell you'd use?" he asked, conscious that she had two more years of transfiguration study behind her than he did.

"Hmm," she mused. "'Verto' should work, but it tends to be used more for inanimate to animate transfigurations. I'd use 'mutatio'."

Harry smiled, remembering his very first transfiguration lesson at Hogwarts. 'Mutatio' was the first spell he and his classmates had ever been taught. Adopting the same procedure as he had for his cutting curse he focused on the result he wanted – a long-lasting crate – and pushed as much power as he could into the spell while flicking his wand at the section of trunk. "_Mutatio_."

Like Seamus and Dean's efforts the trunk rippled, but for Harry the wood seemed to flow into its new form, a coffin-like construction of roughly-hewn planks taking shape before his eyes. He watched the crate tensely, half expecting it to revert to tree-trunk straight away, but as the seconds passed he realised that he'd succeeded at the first attempt.

"Amazing," said Pete, walking around the crate and finally reaching out and touching it reverently. "So how long will it stay like this before turning back into a tree?"

Harry shrugged and turned to Penny, a questioning look on his face.

"It's impossible to say," she admitted. "Or rather, it's impossible for me to say with the equipment I have with me. If I had a thaumentometer, which is a sort of spell analyser, I could use it to determine the entropic decay rate, but I don't. We'll just have to hope that it lasts long enough. So the sooner we get the rest of the transfigurations done, and the kukulkan crated up, the better."

Harry levitated a second piece of trunk over, forced himself to relax from the rush of exultation he'd felt after the success of his first transfiguration, and cast the spell again. As before, the trunk flowed into its new form on command.

Turning to his friends, Harry could see that they were not having as much success as him. As he watched their repeated casts he could see that Dean was forming the crate, but it was unstable and kept reverting to tree form. Seamus's crates were lasting longer but looked to be solid blocks of wood, not hollow crates. He walked over to them, unconsciously slipping into the 'teacher' mode that had become so familiar to him during the DA sessions of the previous school year.

"Dean, nice crate," he began. "But if you want it to last you've got to really focus on pushing power into the spell. And your wand movement's a bit off, too." He demonstrated, wondering as he did which rune, or part of a rune, the flick was based on. "Now, try again, with that wand movement and really pushing the power while you visualise the crate."

Dean took a couple of deep breaths and tried again. His wand movement was crisper than before and he appeared to be almost physically forcing power down his wand. The trunk rippled and, as with Harry's, a sturdy-looking crate began to form. Harry thought that the transfiguration flowed at a slower pace, but flow it did and Dean soon had a fully-formed and apparently stable crate at his feet.

"Whew," he sighed as he lowered his wand. "That's harder than it looked when you did it, mate," he told Harry. Indeed, Harry thought that Dean looked physically drained and he wasn't surprised when he sat down, still breathing heavily.

Seamus turned determinedly back to his own piece of trunk; he'd paused his efforts in order to listen to Harry's explanation to Dean and now performed his own revised cast, carefully following Harry's demonstrated wand movement and, like Dean, seemed to be physically exerting himself as he cast. Harry was delighted to see a crate slowly flow into existence. As was Seamus – he let out a whoop of triumph as it became clear that the crate was stable, before collapsing next to Dean to catch his breath.

"Well done you two," Harry congratulated them. It didn't look like either of them would be up to transfiguring a second crate anytime soon, though, so he turned to the last piece of trunk and performed the transfiguration himself, noting as he did the feeling of power transfer and the speed of the transfiguration. He felt nowhere near as drained as his friends looked, and wondered if he had put enough power into the spell; would his crates revert before theirs, he wondered? The only other alternative he could see was that he was more powerful than the two of them, and he was still somewhat reluctant to accept that.

"Yes, well done indeed," said Penny, adding her own congratulations. If those crates keep their form, you've performed some NEWT-level transfigurations there."

While Dean and Seamus recovered, Hagrid and the others began to chivvy the kukulkan into the crates. Harry, still pondering power levels, realised that there was an easy way to test the permanence of the transfigurations and walked over to the crates.

"_Pingere_," he intoned, and marked his three crates with a large 'H' before marking those his friends had transfigured with an 'S' and a 'D'.

"I want to test how long they last," he explained to the curious observers. "Hagrid, will you keep an eye on them and note down when they revert to tree trunks?"

"Course I will, Harry," came the reply. All of the crates were now occupied and Hagrid hefted one onto his shoulder. Harry gently levitated another, as did Penny, and the recovering Dean and Seamus took the last two. Slowly, so as not to disturb their occupants, a little procession moved back to road. There was no-one in sight so, after carefully lowering her cargo to the ground, Penny stuck out her wand.

Knowing what to expect, Harry and his friends (after lowering their own crates) moved as far off the road as they could. Penny was also watching the empty road pensively.

Pete looked puzzled. "What are you -?" he began, but was cut off by an explosive crack as the Knight Bus roared into existence and screeched to a halt.

"Ernie!" bellowed Hagrid happily, spotting the driver and leaning through the door at the front of the bus as it opened. "I haven't seen you for years! How's your Mavis these days?"

"'Ello, Rubeus," came the cheerful reply. "She's fine! But you're a long way from Hogwarts – what you doin' in this neck o' the woods?"

"Catchin' a few escaped critters," Hagrid told him, and gestured to the crates. "Can we get these in as luggage? I'm takin' 'em back to Hogwarts."

"Course we can, load 'em in," said the driver cheerfully as the conductor eyed the crates warily. Hagrid loaded his crate and supervised as Harry and the others floated their own crates onto the bus.

"Can we call on you if we find anything else strange on the moor?" Harry asked his friend as the bus prepared to depart.

"Course you can," said Hagrid. "You find anything strange, get straight on the floo. If you can't get hold of me, leave a message with Rosmerta at the Three Broomsticks, and I'll be along as soon as I can." He waved through the window and, with a crack, the bus was gone.

**OoOoO**

Excitement over, at least for the moment, the group of Beast hunters headed back into St Neot. Harry spotted a newsagents' shop as they drove up the road to the pub, and excused himself once they parked up to pay it a visit, managing to buy several hard-backed notebooks and some pens. He was determined to keep notes on any magical things he encountered, or any ideas he had, to ensure he didn't forget anything.

Walking into the pub he saw that Lan had bagged a large table by the window. He slid onto a vacant stool and Dudley passed a pint of coke over to him. The pub had gone quiet when Harry had entered but now a susurration of whispers was rippling through the room.

"It's Harry Potter!"

". . . "Boy-Who-Lived . . ."

"Chosen One . . ."

Seamus nudged Dudley. "Wait for it!" he told him.

Harry sighed. Sure enough, it wasn't long before an elderly woman approached the table and grabbed Harry's hand.

"I never believed what the Prophet was writing about you, Mr Potter," she assured him. "You were a lone voice in the wilderness, but I always believed in you."

"Rita Skeeter's a muck-raking bitch!" called someone more vehemently from the back of the room. "She wouldn't recognise the truth if it crawled up her skirt and . . ."

"Albert!", a female voice cut him off. "This is a family pub! Behave yourself!"

There was now a small queue forming behind Harry. "Don't worry mate, I'll handle this," Seamus told him confidently before jumping to his feet. Harry groaned.

"Now then ladies and gentlemen, no need to push, just form an orderly line," Seamus told the crowd. "Mr Potter is happy to sign autographs, only 2 sickles each, or 5 if it's a body part you want autographed. Make me an offer for a lock of his hair! You, madam!" Seamus pointed to a crone at the back of the queue. "Are you still of child-bearing age? Because Mr Potter's doing a fantastic rate at the moment on heir-begetting, prices on application."

Harry grabbed Seamus and dragged him back down. "What are you playing it?" he ground out.

"You've got to give them what they want, Harry," Seamus told him unrepentantly. "Then once they've got it, they'll leave you alone."

"I am not begetting heirs on anyone!" Harry almost shouted.

"Quite," came a new voice from Harry's side. "There'll be no begetting of heirs in my pub."

Harry turned to see a young man had approached and was in the process of urging people back to their seats.

"This is a mixed pub," the man warned Seamus, looming over the table. "Drawing attention to yourself by pimping for Mr Potter, or by referring to wizarding currency, will you get you barred, understand?"

"Perfectly," said Seamus, although not looking too chastened by the warning.

"I'm Bors Robards, the landlord," the man told the table. Turning back to Harry he said "I apologise for the enthusiasm of my customers, Mr Potter. Knowing them well, though, I can assure you that their sentiments are genuine. Neither the Ministry nor the Prophet are particularly welcome in this part of the world."

Harry looked around to see that most of the patrons were nodding at Robards' words. He smiled ruefully and nodded back.

"Fortunately," Robards continued, eyeing Seamus sternly, "everyone in here at the moment knows about magic. But you shouldn't assume that will always be the case."

"We won't," Penny assured him. "We'll probably be in here a lot over the next couple of months, and especially in August, so we'll bear that in mind.

"Oh?" queried Robards.

"We're bringing a group of people down here in August to search for the Beast of Bodmin," Pete broke in enthusiastically. He turned to the pub, whose patrons were all clearly listening to the conversation. "If anyone here has seen anything strange on the Moor, or has seen the Beast, or anything else, we'd be really interested to hear from you."

Robards snorted. "Lots of strange things go on up on the Moor," he told them. "But no-one's ever caught anything, or anyone."

"Well, we just have," Harry told him. "We've just caught five kukulkan up by, er,"

"Dozmary Pool," chipped in Bob. "That's not a bad start, to say we were only here today on a recce."

That revelation started a flood of questions and stories about the Moor, and Harry and the others spent the next hour talking to various patrons, and Robards, getting their stories and thoughts. During the questioning Pete had ordered pasty and chips for everyone, and as Robards switched on the pub's TV for the football, the group settled back down to eat and compare notes.

"Well," said Harry, flicking though his notebook. "I've got big cats, small cats, mysterious lights and disappearing muggles, all going back over a century."

It soon became clear that these were the common themes of most of the stories. There were a few oddities – Dean, for example, had been told of a mysterious Owlman that was said to haunt churchyards in the area – but in the main, cats figured heavily.

The pub had emptied somewhat, as patrons left to either watch the match in their own homes, or because they weren't interested in football, and Robards wandered across to the group's table for a chat.

"So what's your take on all this?" Penny asked him curiously. "Have you lived around here all your life?"

"I have," he replied, "the Robards are an old Cornish family. And to be honest, I reckon that all of these stories have a wizard behind them somewhere. There have always been a few darkish families living round here, although most of them have died out now, and it wouldn't surprise me if most of these stories have muggle-baiting at their heart."

"What about the kukulkan we've found this morning?" asked Dean.

"That is a strange one," admitted Robards. "I've always wondered if there wasn't a private menagerie somewhere on a wizarding estate round here. That would explain where a lot of the sightings come from. Or rather, where the wizard behind the sightings was getting his creatures from. But like I say, there are some old families in this part of the world, and no-one knows where most of them live, so finding a menagerie won't be easy."

"How can you not know where people live?" asked Pete, puzzled.

Robards grinned. "There are estates surrounding the Moor that have been protected for centuries. I reckon there are at least five unplottable valleys running down from the Moor, all protected by blood wards, and several smaller estates too. This bit of Cornwall's probably three times the size the muggles think it is."

"How does that work?" asked Dudley. "And for that matter, how do you manage to hide something the size of Diagon Alley in the middle of London? What about aerial photos, satellite photos and the like?"

Penny smiled at Dudley. "Unplottable charms are some of the most powerful magics known," she told him. "They're incredibly difficult to cast, and they also have to be anchored to runestones, which themselves are very difficult to create, especially if what you're trying to hide is something the size of Diagon Alley."

"But that doesn't explain how they work," commented Dean. "Dudley's got a point – can they keep fooling muggle technology for ever?"

Penny shrugged. "You'd need to talk to a Charms master or a runemaster to get an answer to that," she said. "It's not an area of magic I've studied."

"They've obviously worked so far," said Harry thoughtfully. "The muggles must have taken aerial photos of London and there's no way people would have overlooked Diagon Alley if it appeared on the photos."

"But back to the Beast," said Lan, "who do you think owns these hidden estates?"

Robards looked at Lan seriously. "We take our privacy seriously down here," he told him. "If you can find them, all well and good, but I wouldn't tell you where they were, even if I knew. One of them _might_ have a menagerie. But that's only a guess. The owners like their privacy."

"So you won't tell us anything," said Pete, sounding disappointed.

"Well," said Robards thoughtfully. "There's one family more than any other that people have suggested over the years were behind a lot of the darker activities round here. That's the Treziams. But I think that most of them are dead, now. Fenton Treziam was in here once last autumn, but I got the impression he was just passing through – I haven't seen him since, anyway. His father died in Azkaban in the 1960s and I don't reckon he's got any other family left alive. I'm pretty sure his family has a hidden estate in the area, but I've never heard of anyone not a Treziam who knew where it was."

"His family can't be behind anything strange that's happened in the last thirty years, then," commented Pete.

"Fenton's grandfather, Purvis Treziam, was alive until the early 90s," replied Robards. "And just because no-one's seen Fenton around doesn't mean he hasn't been. He was always an odd sort. Not exactly dark, but very much his own man." He rose as a couple of tourists walked into the bar. "Good luck with your search," he told Pete. "I'm always happy to talk about anything you find, as long as it doesn't involve giving away secrets that aren't mine to tell."

Pete nodded in thanks. The group had been given a lot to think about and the rest of the afternoon was spent discussing the stories they'd been told and the likelihood of wizards being behind them. All were agreed that finding a hidden menagerie would be an achievement, but none of the wizards present had any idea about how to find an unplottable estate. Harry flipped to a new page in his notebook and made a note to speak to Dr Reynolds, who he suspected would fall within Penny's definition of a runemaster. He'd told the others about Penharrow Grange, which seemed to be warded against muggles rather than unplottable, and they'd agreed that a meeting with Cheesewire would be useful. If nothing else she might be less reticent than Robards about suggesting the location (or owners) of hidden estates in the area.

Overall it was a cheerful group who piled back into the minibus at the end of the afternoon. They'd found some mysterious creatures, identified further leads to follow up, and England had beaten Spain on penalties. The conversation on the way back to Surrey alternated between theories on what could be behind all the sightings, and England's prospects against either Germany or Croatia in their next match.

Pete dropped Harry and his friends back at Privet Drive at just after ten. Dean and Seamus had been debating whether to catch the train back to London but had eventually decided to risk the Knight Bus again. "It can't be as bad as this morning's trip," said Seamus optimistically. Having seen Luna's arrival and departure on the bus the previous week Harry wasn't so sure and couldn't help wincing as, on arrival, the bus narrowly missed hitting both a lamp-post and one of Mrs Figg's cats. Dean and Seamus looked distinctly nervous as they bade the cousins goodbye and boarded the bus.

"Rather them than me," said Dudley with a shudder as the bus vanished.

"Too right," agreed Harry as they headed indoors. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were still up, and were interested to hear about the cousins' day, but it wasn't long before Harry began yawning. The magic use earlier on must be catching up with him, he decided. He wanted to get a good night's sleep in preparation for meeting Daphne's parents again in the morning and so, bidding his relatives goodnight, he headed upstairs and dropped into bed, although he did stay awake long enough to do his occlumency exercises before falling gratefully into sleep.


End file.
